


Sonata

by swaps55



Series: Opus [3]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Pining, Shepard & Kaidan have a pre-me1 service history, Songfic, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaps55/pseuds/swaps55
Summary: After the Battle of the Citadel, the Alliance calls theNormandyhome to Vancouver to face an inquest. Things get...complicated. On every possible level. Especially when Kaidan discovers an unfortunate misunderstanding with his parents.~“Have to admit though,” Shepard says, swallowing the rest of his shot, “I’ve been called a lot worse things than your boyfriend.”Kaidan blinks. The whiskey’s definitely caught up to him. It’s warm in here, and he has to have imagined what just came out of Shepard’s mouth. “Really.”“Compared to getting shot at and having an inquest shoved up my ass? I’m pretty sure holding your hand, going home with you and eating your mom’s risotto is a considerable improvement, yes.”Kaidan laughs. Or tries to. It comes out as more of a hoarse squawk. “Sure, I’ll just avoid this whole mess by bringing you home with me. They’ll never have to know.”“Maybe they don’t,” Shepard says, and Kaidan nearly chokes.
Relationships: Jeff "Joker" Moreau & Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard
Series: Opus [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719571
Comments: 646
Kudos: 288





	1. Standing Still

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merrin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrin/gifts).



> Many thanks to [sinvraal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinvraal) for her incredibly helpful betawork, and N7ZacHammer for listening to me yap about this fic for the last three months. :)
> 
> This is for merrin. I promised I'd write her a story when she finished playing the trilogy. Four years later, I'm finally delivering.

_The night is here and the day is gone_   
_And the world spins madly on_

[**x** ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6xNaObGQT8V8OM5OEm6p3G?si=ZkqPCOJXToaHjaTL65D9ng)

**Standing Still**

Kaidan shifts his posture to keep the edge of one of the crew lockers from digging into his back. His knees ache from sitting still for so long, but instead of getting up he stares across the cargo bay to what’s left of the Mako suspended in her struts. 

The left hull is crushed where she hit the Presidium barreling through the relay. From here the damage to the undercarriage is less visible, but it’s mangled in ways that are impressive even for Shepard. It’ll be awhile before she’s up and running again. Garrus isn’t here to fix her. He’d stayed behind on the Citadel in the aftermath to aid C-Sec with the recovery. 

The cargo bay is a lot emptier than it used to be. No Garrus. No Wrex shuffling in his corner. They’d dropped him off on Tuchanka to, as he’d put it, “get off his hump” and go back to his people. 

There’s no Ashley, either. The sight of her inventorying and installing weapon mods, calibrating targeting software, had become part of the _Normandy’s_ fabric. When she was here, this little corner of the cargo bay had thrummed with life. Now it just echoes. 

Saren is dead. His smoking ruin of a corpse hopefully buried in a vault somewhere. Or better yet, burned down to cinders. The memory of that artificial light flaring up in the depth of his dead sockets is something Kaidan will be waking up to for years.

They’ll be picking pieces of Sovereign out of the Citadel for months. A week out from victory and instead of celebrating, Kaidan is still waiting to let go of the same breath he’d drawn at the sight of its debris framed in the Tower windows...seconds before pirouetting right through them.

He tears his gaze from the ruined Mako and goes back to his omnitool. The orange glow creates a bright spot in his dark little corner. For a third time he scrolls through the casualty list. For the third time he finds the set of names he’s looking for, wondering if maybe this time it’ll sink in. 

> _C. Beaudoin, Myeongnyang_
> 
> _E. Navarro, Myeongnyang_
> 
> _A. Oseguera, Myeongnyang_
> 
> _N. Wendler, Myeongnyang_

There are more. More that mutter just as much. But the harder he looks the more the names start to swim.

He brings up the message again, puts his hand to his forehead as he plays it through the omnitool, nails digging into his scalp.

A familiar face appears, eyes wide and tearstained. Her red hair is close shaven, but a lot closer to regulation than it had been when Kaidan last saw her. Her new CO must not be as tolerant as Oseguera had been. That’s too bad. Kara Pendergrass is always at her best when you just let her be herself.

 _“Sir,”_ she says, in a voice that makes everything feel a lot more real than a list of names. The only other time he’s ever heard that tone was on Sharjila. 

“ _I heard about the_ ‘Yang _. I didn’t know what to do. Shepard saved the fucking day, I guess, which is the only thing about any of this makes any sense. You were with him, right? I hope to fuck you were with him. Please don’t be dead. Beaudoin’s dead. Oseguera’s dead. Everyone’s dead and I don’t know what to do.”_

She hugs herself, eyes darting left and right. Takes a deep breath, exhales.

 _“I still don’t understand what the fuck happened. No one’s telling the same story. Geth and rogue Spectres and Jesus, did you see the Citadel? Of course you did. If Shepard was there, you were there, right? You had to have been there. His luck’s not that good without you to bail him out of trouble. You did what you could, right? You always do. If there was a way to save the_ ‘Yang _,_ _you’d have done it. I guess I just want to hear it from you.”_

She stares at the ceiling.

 _“They’re all dead and I don’t know what to do. You always knew what to do. Fuck. This is stupid. Sentimental bullshit. Beaudoin would punch me if he heard me say I just wanted to know you were still out there. But he’s dead and…I want to know you’re still out there. If any of us are still out there...some part of the ‘_ Yang _is still out there. Fuck me, Beaudoin’s right. Stupid sentimental bullshit. But I don’t know what else to do.”_

Kaidan closes his omnitool, leans his head back against the lockers, closes his eyes and tries not to think.

The elevator doors swish open at the other end of the cargo bay, followed by boots on the deck that echo through the cavernous space without the extra bodies and movement to soak up the sound. Even with the hitch in their usual cadence, Kaidan would recognize those footfalls anywhere. Unpredictable in so many ways, so very predictable in others.

The hairs of Kaidan’s arms stand on end as his biotic field intersects with another.

“Hey, Shepard,” he says without opening his eyes.

“Figured I’d find you here.” Shepard’s back clunks against the lockers as he lowers himself to the ground, the still-healing left hip making it less than graceful.

( _his luck’s not that good without you to bail him out of trouble)_

The hour Kaidan had spent digging through the rubble in the Citadel Tower with Garrus, knot in his stomach, heart hammering in his ears, trying again and again to raise Shepard on the comm...nothing about that felt like luck.

And yet the only lingering sign of how close Kaidan had come to losing him is a stiff left hip. Shepard sticks his leg out in front of him to get comfortable, resting his heel against the foot of the weapon bench. Negulesco had left a container of ammo blocks out. She’s trying hard, but she’s no Ashley Williams. 

Kaidan cracks an eye open. “Would it be morose if I said hanging out with the _Normandy’s_ ghosts felt appropriate?”

“Take it you saw the casualty list.” Shepard rests his hands on his knees and examines his boots.

“I saw. Here to pull me out of my hole?”

“Figured I’d sit in it with you for a while first. If you don’t mind the company.”

The lines on Shepard’s forehead are deeper. Circles under his eyes a little darker. Curl in his shoulders that wasn’t there before. All together he looks less like the Savior of the Citadel, as he’s already being called, and more…human. It’s both reassuring and terrifying. 

“You know what they say about misery,” Kaidan says. “But one word about the _‘Yang_ being a good ship and I’ll deck you.” 

“Hmph. You sound like Pendergrass.”

_(everyone’s dead and I don’t know what to do)_

Kaidan exhales. Not enough to let go of that week-long breath he’s still holding onto. “She sent me a message.”

A small smile curves Shepard’s lip. “Somehow I’m not surprised. She always looked up to you. How’s she handling it?”

“About as well as I am. Which is to say, not that well, I guess. Beaudoin’s dead.” 

“I know.”

 _“_ Williams. Beaudoin. Captain Oseguera. Doc Wendler. They keep saying we won. I mean, I was there. I should know.”

“Yeah.”

“So why does it feel like we lost?”

“Because there’s always a price,” Shepard says, voice uncharacteristically soft.

The Butcher of Torfan would know. Kaidan swallows. He’s seen Shepard wear the consequences of victory before. Most notably the day they met, over five years ago now. They’d both been a lot younger then. The galaxy had been a lot simpler, too.

“Think it was high enough this time,” Kaidan murmurs.

“Just you wait. Don’t think we’re done paying quite yet.”

“What do you mean?”

The gravity well shifts as Shepard idly dips into it. Nervous habit. After five years, it’s more conspicuous in its absence than its presence.

“There’s going to be an inquest.”

Kaidan chuckles without a trace of humor. “We stopped the single biggest threat in the galaxy. Is a medal ceremony really that hard?”

“Oh, they’ll end on a high note, I’m sure. Has to look good for the cameras. But Anderson warned me before we left. They’ve got an agenda. They want to look at everything. All of it. In excruciating detail. You. Me. Joker. We’re being ordered to testify. Even Liara and Tali, if they’re feeling benevolent.”

“Looks like Wrex and Garrus picked a good time to get off the ship.”

Shepard nods.

“So where are they sending us for this hero’s welcome? Arcturus?”

“No.”

“Where, then?”

“Earth,” Shepard says. “Vancouver. Headquarters.”

“Ah.” Kaidan thunks the back of his head against the locker. “So you weren’t kidding when you said home.”

Shepard shifts, grimacing a little as he stretches the bad hip. “How long has it been?”

“Since I was there with you.” He sighs. “My parents stay in touch. We talk about the horses. The orchard. They ask about you.”

Shepard smiles.

Kaidan doesn’t need to delve into the details of his family. Shepard had seen it for himself. When Kaidan had faced going home for the first time since re-enlisting, he hadn’t known what he’d find there. Shepard’s never figured out how to leave someone behind when they need help, so they’d spent a few days at the orchard with his parents in 2180. Despite the guilt over co-opting Shepard’s leave, he’d been glad for the backup. A neutral buffer. A _biotic_ neutral buffer.

Then, the wounds from Kaidan’s abrupt return to the Alliance had still been fresh. Now it’s more akin to an itchy scab. Present, but fading. Things are better. _He_ is better.

Or had been, until the casualty list had come out.

_(everyone is dead and I don’t know what to do)_

He’d learned a long time ago his parents don’t have all the answers. Time and time again he’s proven he’s better off finding them on his own. But no matter how many times experience proves otherwise, there’s something…reassuring about having a place to land. Roots to go back to. Something he can hold onto until he can find his feet again.

“It’ll be good to see them,” he says softly.

“They know you’re alive?”

He nods. “Comms are chaos, but I managed to get a message to them. Mom’s already putting together some kind of benefit to raise money for the Alliance victims’ families. Or something like that. I didn’t listen very closely.”

( _if there was a way to save the_ ‘Yang _,_ _you’d have done it)_

“Think we’ll warrant an invitation?” Shepard asks with a wry smile.

“Yeah, that’s what we need. Let’s stop in the middle of an inquest to go have a party.”

“See, you jest, but I’ve met your mother. Better iron your dress blues.”

They lapse into companionable silence, the cargo bay feeling a little less empty with Shepard in it.

“Pendergrass sounded scared,” Kaidan says, so quiet that he’s not entirely sure he wanted Shepard to even hear him. “I can count on one finger the number of times I’ve heard her scared like that.”

 _Sharjila._ He doesn’t have to say it. Shepard’s thinking the same thing.

“Guess I don’t blame her.”

“Anyway,” Kaidan says, brushing it off. “Time to get out of this hole, I guess.” He starts getting to his feet, but Shepard puts a hand on his knee.

“Not quite yet, if you don’t mind. We spent almost five years on that ship. I think we’ve earned a little time.”

He leaves his hand on Kaidan’s knee. Heavy, warm. Reassuring, in some small way, though it puts a familiar ache in his heart. Kaidan leans his head back and closes his eyes. Wonders for the thousandth time what might have happened if he’d knocked on Shepard’s door before Ilos.

Sovereign. Saren. The _Myeongnyang._ An inquest in Vancouver.

The entire galaxy is spinning. But here in the _Normandy’s_ cargo bay, for just a few minutes at least, everything stands still.

~

A routine core dump is a nice change from reapers. The auroral display as the static charge vents into Ruam’s magnetic field is a hell of a thing to behold. It’s also something Joker likes to do in solitude.

“Why are you here,” he demands.

“Because I’m reading,” Tali replies without looking up from her datapad. She’s riding co-pilot in Addison Chase’s usual seat, feet propped up on the console like she owns it. “And when I read I like to be able to look at the stars.” 

“Well…can you go look at the stars somewhere else?”

She scrolls with a finger. “Are there shutters anywhere else?”

“No.”

Tali shrugs. “Then here I sit.”

“Just…reading.”

“Yep.”

Joker taps at his flight console with a finger. “Just reading a book.”

“It’s a very good book.”

He scowls. Taps some more. The drive core dump won’t finish for another hour, and then he’s got two relay jumps to plot before they can make their way towards Earth. And here’s Tali, feeding a beverage through a straw hooked to her suit as if she has all the time in the world.

“Ok, fine. What’s the book about.”

She still doesn’t look up, but her tone becomes infuriatingly enigmatic. “Do you really want to know?”

He slouches back in his chair with a harrumph. “Yes.”

She pulls her feet off the console, sets the datapad down and swivels towards him. “It’s a human romance novel.”

“A romance novel.”

“Mmhm. I’ve read hundreds of quarian, turian, drell, asari, even batarian romance stories. But I haven’t really seen what humans add to the genre, and given we’re heading to Earth, I thought I should give one a try.”

“Why does it not surprise me you love romance novels,” he mutters. She reaches for the datapad again, but he waves a defeated hand. “Go on. Tell me. What’s the plot?”

She leans forward. “The protagonist is a special ops agent in the Alliance. She’s assigned a mission to protect the ambassador to the Citadel, a beautiful, brazen woman whose life has been threatened by the hanar. While protecting her from a drell assassin she falls in love with her, but tries to deny her feelings so it won’t compromise the mission.”

“Wow. Sounds like Udina’s gotten a lot prettier since I last checked.”

“She thinks her love is unrequited, but I’m pretty sure the ambassador loves her back.”

“Gee, I wonder how it ends.”

“It’s about the journey, Joker.”

A new voice pipes in. “What journey?”

They both look up to find Alenko leaning against the bulkhead at the entrance to the cockpit, gazing at the stars through the shutters. For someone who just saved the galaxy, he looks like shit. That infuriating, affable smile of his is a shadow of itself, and he hasn’t shaved. "The romantic kind,” Joker tells him. “Don’t worry, we weren’t talking about you at all.”

Tali tilts her head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kaidan asks. 

“Absolutely nothing. Hey, I have comm packets for you. Came in with the last batch. Hang on, I’ll route ‘em to your omnitool.”

“Let me guess,” he says with a somewhat pained look. “They’re all from Vancouver.”

“Is your mom excited to see her baby boy?”

“Run your mouth all you want, but she’s planning a benefit while we’re there and I sent her your contact info.”

“Hey, I don’t do parties.” 

“A benefit?” Tali asks.

“Gala,” Kaidan says with a nod. “She has this skill. She’s really good at guilting rich people into giving money to people who need it. She wanted to help Alliance families who…lost people.” He activates his omnitool and scans through his messages, scowling. “Are you sure I can’t bully someone into letting me place a call? This would be so much easier if I could just talk to her.”

Joker shakes his head. “Comm buoys are still slammed. Everyone’s screaming for bandwidth. Anything not marked ‘priority’ is sitting at the bottom of the queue. Sorry. You’ll be able to talk face to face soon enough.”

“Yeah.” He scowls, running a hand through his hair. “Okay.” Without another word, he leaves the cockpit.

“That guy needs some sleep,” Joker says.

“I’d love to go to a gala,” Tali says with a sigh.

“Well, check your messages,” Joker mutters. “Think we all just got an invitation. Anyway. Back to your book. What happens next?”

~

Joker wrinkles his nose as the scent of chamomile lavender fills the _Normandy’s_ mess. Liara cradles a cup of tea in her hands as she takes the empty seat next to him at the table, across from Shepard. She probably got the tea from Dr. Chakwas’ personal stash. Joker can’t stand the stuff, but the med bay always smells like it when he shows up for his weekly check-in. 

Kaidan sits across from Joker, expression maddeningly neutral as he stares at the cards in his hands. There’s absolutely no reason to bring the poker face to a stupid game of War, but that’s Alenko for you. 

“You’re making this inquest sound like a trial,” Liara says.

“Not quite,” Shepard replies. “They’re not trying to find fault so much as they want all the facts on the table. But that said, I don’t exactly think it’s going to be a pleasant experience. We’re going under orders. But you and Tali are not Alliance. The order doesn’t apply to you. If you choose to provide testimony, it’ll be voluntary. And if they don’t play nice I’ll put you on the first shuttle out of there.”

“Perks of being a Spectre,” Joker says, tossing a card on the table. Eight of spades. Kaidan lays a nine of hearts on top and pulls the cards towards him.

“Very well,” Liara says. “If you think it will help, I will be there.”

Kaidan and Joker play the next round. Ten of clubs, jack of diamonds. He smirks at Kaidan’s frown.

“A prothean expert will help, yes,” Shepard says. “They’re going to want to know everything about Ilos. But…that means they’ll bring up Benezia.

Kaidan glances across the table at Liara as Joker lays down a queen of spades and loses it to an ace.

Liara smiles. “Shepard, you have done a great deal for me since I came on board. I will do the same in return.”

“She’s a lot nicer than me,” Joker says, pushing the top card of his deck around with a finger. “I’d have considered finding the conduit my good deed of the century and bailed to somewhere sunny and nice.”

“You hate atmosphere,” Kaidan says, taking a seven of diamonds with an eight of hearts.

“Fine. Somewhere with complete atmospheric control and a nice view out the shutters.”

“Guess you’ll get to see some of Earth, then,” Shepard tells Liara with a lopsided smile.

“What I would really like to see are the Mars Archives,” she replies. “I don’t suppose they would grant me access?”

Kaidan loses a ten of spades to a queen of diamonds. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Shepard replies.

Liara picks up her cup. “Sounds like I need to brush up on a few things before we arrive. Good night, everyone.”

Joker tips his cap to her as Shepard and Kaidan echo her goodnight. 

Shepard leans back in his chair and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Four days down the well,” he mutters.

“Weather with no hardsuit,” Kaidan adds. “And October in Vancouver means rain. Lots of it.” 

The corner of Kaidan’s eye tightens when Joker trumps his king with a lucky ace. A hull breach in the poker face? Did the sky fall when he wasn’t looking?

Ok, in a way it had. Having chunks of the Citadel fall on you probably counts. But _still_.

“I’ve got more paperwork,” Shepard says, getting to his feet. “Oh, and I got some kind of message from your mom? Do you know what that’s about?”

Kaidan waves a hand. “Probably the gala thing. Don’t worry about it. It can wait until we get there.”

“Ok.” He rests his hands on the back of his chair, hanging his head and exhaling. “I was gonna try and write a letter.”

Kaidan’s hand stops with a card halfway to the table. From here it looks like a six. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

Joker glances between the two of them. Something significant is being said, but he has no idea what it is. An obnoxiously common occurrence. His seven of hearts is already on the table.

Kaidan watches Shepard until the door to his quarters slides closed, then finally plays the card. Joker scoops it up, next card already face down in his hand.

“Kaidan,” he says, waving his hand. “My eyes are way over here.”

“Right. Sorry.” He stares at his deck like he’s forgotten what they’re doing.

Joker rolls his eyes. “Will you just knock on his door already? You’re killing me.”

“Can we not do this now?” Kaidan asks with a heavy sigh. “This is not a good time.”

“Why not? We _won_. The mission’s done. This is exactly the time. Happy endings and all that shit.”

“Joker,” Kaidan warns.

Joker almost drops it. Really. He almost does. But he’d dropped it before Ilos, too. Dropped it after Virmire when Kaidan had finally confessed during one of those late night conversations you usually regret in the morning. Even Joker had had the decency to know that _really_ hadn’t been a good time. 

But there can only be so many “not a good times,” before you’re just committed to believing there will never be a good time. And Alenko is exactly that type.

Also, Tali had given him a copy of the book, and stars help him, he’s already three chapters in.

“What the hell do you have against being happy?”

Kaidan puts his head in his hands and inhales deeply. Then steeples his fingers and meets Joker’s expectant gaze.

“We lost the ‘ _Yang_.”

Oh, _fuck_ . He hasn’t been able to bring himself to look at the list yet. Too many ships. Too many pilots. Too many things he doesn’t want to know. Like if the _Inchon_ is on it. 

“Oh. Oh shit. Shit, I’m sorry.”

Kaidan doesn’t answer, just stares at his remaining cards.

“Any survivors?” Joker asks. 

Kaidan shakes his head.

“I’m…really sorry.”

“Yeah, well.”

Joker takes a deep breath, makes what he’s pretty sure is going to be a bad decision, and leans forward. “Kaidan. This is exactly the time when it can be kinda nice to have someone be there for you. Someone who understands what the hell you’re going through.”

“I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t talking about _you_.”

That, at least, saps some of the tension out of Kaidan’s body. He pushes his pile of cards to the side and levels his gaze. “Do you think I haven’t thought about it? Think I haven’t laid it all out in my head in excruciating detail?”

“Well, I mean. I’ve met you. So, yes. But I still don’t get why you insist on doing this to yourself, like it’s somehow _noble_ to be this miserable. And if you fucking cop out and say the word ‘fraternization’ I’ll hobble over to his door and knock on it myself.”

“It’s a rule for a reason.” 

“Fuck the damn rulebook every now and then, Alenko.” Joker throws a hand up. “What makes you think the galaxy is going to come crashing down just because you love your CO?”

“Virmire.”

The word hangs in the air like a bomb, to hell with the irony. Sometimes Joker swears Ashley is still hovering over his shoulder. He shivers.

The night Kaidan had come clean about his feelings for Shepard had definitely not been the lieutenant at his best. Survivor’s guilt isn’t pretty, and Kaidan hadn’t worn it particularly well. But he’d stopped short of the implication that’s hanging in the air now.

“Do you think Shepard came back for you—”

Kaidan holds up a hand, voice a harsh whisper. “Stop. Don’t. Please.”

The ‘please’ hits like a punch in the gut.

“Kaidan…I read the report.”

“So did I.”

Joker closes his eyes, because saying it out loud sure as hell doesn’t make it hurt any less. “He did the right thing.”

“I hope so. And I’m going to believe it was for the right reasons. Because if it wasn’t…I’m not sure I could live with that.”

Joker stares down at his remaining deck, draws the next card and flips it up on the table. Three of spades. “Yeah, ok. I get it. I do. But you’re talking about it like it’s something that only changes things if you name it. Pretending it’s not real doesn’t make it less real. It already _is_ , Kaidan. You can’t change what is.”

Kaidan takes the round with a five of hearts and doesn’t say a word.


	2. Time's Hard Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara worries. Tali and Joker discuss the finer points of romantic tropes. Kaidan discovers the consequences of not calling home more. Shepard enables bad decision making with the help of a few shots of whiskey.

_I love you, I hate it, I can't get through_  
_I've tried to re-name it to a face not you_

[ x ](https://open.spotify.com/track/3g2koMSfvsAGKcBAHyFtUF?si=7Iyhq40eQLSWKrBBwEppuA)

**Time’s Hard Weight**

Admiral Hackett looks up from the desk when the door slides open. This office is bigger than the one he has on the _Everest_ , but he doesn’t know where anything is and Admiral Phan appears to be a fan of clutter. Family photos cover the oversized desk, along with other knick knacks Hackett doesn’t care enough to identify. 

Doesn’t matter. He won’t be using it long. He gets to his feet and clasps his hands behind his back. 

Anderson’s protege looks older than twenty-nine. Not a surprise. Soldiers, especially Ns, age before their time. Hackett has seen it hundreds of times, including in the mirror. If they don’t wear it on the outside, they hold it on the inside. The end result is the same. 

Shepard is no different. 

But Hackett needs him to be different. He needs Anderson to be right. 

To his credit, Shepard hides the wear better than most. Face a little pallid. Dark circles under the eyes. But his posture is straight, unbowed. Gaze bright and shrewd. If anything, he’s borne this better than he had Torfan. Captain Oseguera’s initial report after Shepard returned to active duty hadn’t been encouraging. But Shepard had proved him wrong. Gone toe to toe with the best Spectre the Council had to offer, and the only real sign he shows from it is a wince as he sits in the chair on the other side of the desk. 

Left hip, according to the medical report. It would heal. 

Not good enough. He needs to know about the rest. Shepard’s about to be up against a different kind of fight. One without guns.

“You’re a long way from the _Everest_ , sir,” Shepard says. 

“Time to go to war, Commander. This war starts at home.”

Shepard’s stare is cold and sharp as a lance. “And you want to talk to me.”

Hackett stands and adjusts his uniform. He doesn’t need Phan’s grandkids in his eyeline. “This conversation doesn’t leave this room.” 

Everything about Shepard shifts. Hardens. A good sign. 

“What do you need me to do?” 

That’s the soldier talking. Not what he wants. He wants the Spectre. 

“I don’t like what I’m hearing from Command.”

“Sir?”

“This is the most critical moment of the fight, Shepard. This is where the truth gets decided. It’s not what happened out in Widow. The truth is going to be whatever comes out of this inquest. And you and I are not going to like what they say.”

Shepard’s eyes narrow, gears turning. It doesn’t take him long to get to a conclusion and it’s the right one. Good. “You think they’re going to cover it up.” 

“They already are.” 

A glint enters Shepard’s eye. That’s it. That’s the Spectre. That’s what he wants. 

“You killed Saren. You took down Sovereign. You know the truth. That puts you in a unique position.” 

Shepard’s expression doesn’t change. “What do you need from me, Admiral?” 

“I need you to do your job. Loudly. Tell the truth when people don’t want to hear it. Like it or not, you’re the symbol of all of this. People will listen to you. But there’ll be a price. Probably an ugly one.”

Shepard’s lips press into a thin line. He’s more thoughtful than Hackett expected from someone who’d earned the nickname The Butcher of Torfan.

“You want me to play the scapegoat. Be a Spectre and get things done anyway. Without the support of the Alliance. Or the Council, if my current run of luck holds.” 

“Yes.”

Hackett’s turn to watch. Shepard’s been on an island since taking the _Normandy_. Hell, some in the Alliance have treated him that way since Torfan. How long is he willing to stand without allies? 

Because he’s not going to get them.

To his credit, Shepard gives nothing away. That stare of his is lethal. 

“We’re going to need you, Shepard. The reaper threat is real. Shutting one door won’t lock them out forever. They’ll come. Whatever everyone else believes or says won’t mean a damn thing when they show up on our doorstep.”

A weighted pause follows. Again, the gears turn. All the reports suggest he thinks well on his feet. Seeing it in real time lends the assumption more weight. 

“You can count on me, sir.”

Time will tell whether or not that’s true. This week will tell him if there are cracks Hackett needs to patch. Anderson’s a good tool for that. 

“Good. I’ve called in a team of analysts to put together some data on a possible reaper invasion. I want you to work with them while you’re here.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got inquest proceedings, sir.” 

“Not after hours, you don’t.” 

Shepard nods, jaw clenching. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ve called in a number of favors to put this team together, Commander. There was a lot of pushback. Sit in on it. Use it how you need.” 

_ This is the only thing I can do for you right now _ . 

“Aye, sir.” 

Hackett nods. “Dismissed.” 

He watches Shepard go. 

Tough kid. Good soldier. He can see why Anderson likes him so much. It’s too bad. 

Shepard’s got hell waiting for him. Even he probably doesn’t see it yet. It’s too much to ask of anyone. But they need to win. So he won’t ask. 

Hackett can’t afford to like him. He needs to use him. Whatever the cost. 

~

The Alliance Headquarters is sleek, massive, teeming with activity. As Liara searches for the right elevator that will take her to Shepard’s temporary crew quarters, a few soldiers salute her before realizing their mistake, then gawk until she’s safely past them. 

Surrounded by so many humans, Liara feels small. Exposed. It’s not unlike her visits to Armalis with her mother as a girl, clinging to Benezia’s side and trying not to get lost in the sea of strangers gliding along crowded streets, the skyscrapers rearing so high that Liara has to crane her head to find the top. Only there, at least she was fluent in the social customs and niceties that elude her here. 

Dead alien races have always been her specialty. Not live ones. 

But if Benezia has taught her one thing - and she has taught Liara many - it is how to swallow her insecurities and leave others no choice but to believe she belongs. 

So when she takes the wrong elevator, searches the wrong floor to no avail, she politely ignores the skeptical look of the lieutenant sitting at a help desk in the lobby when she asks for directions to Shepard’s quarters. When he looks up her identity and sees what ship she has come in on, his eyes widen and she gives him an icy smile her mother would have been proud of. 

“Next building,” he says, pointing out the lobby doors to a courtyard on her left. 

She squints under Earth’s bald sun, hurriedly crossing the courtyard, and this time finding the right elevator. After a long walk down a much quieter corridor, she finds the door bearing the numbers Shepard had sent her and requests access through the keypad.

The door slides open a few moments later, but there’s no one to greet her. She steps into the space, about the size of Shepard’s cabin on the _Normandy_ and even more sparse, and finds Shepard sprawled out on the bed, ice pack on his hip, one arm draped over his face. 

“Are you all right?” she asks with concern, sitting down gingerly on the mattress near his feet.It does not look like he has been here long - his bag remains sealed where he’d discarded it on the floor with the exception of his dress uniform, which hangs crookedly over the mirror.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles against his arm. “Just overdid it.”

“I can try to find Dr. Chakwas--”

“She’s visiting friends in Buenos Aires.” 

“I’m sure there’s a doctor somewhere in this facility who would see you.” 

Shepard struggles to a sitting position, readjusting the ice pack with a grimace. “No doubt. But I don’t want to see them.” 

It is useless to argue, so she doesn’t. Instead she does something that might actually be helpful, and gets up to put his dress uniform in the closet. 

“Leave it there,” he says, holding up a hand. “It’s fine where it is.” 

She folds her arms across her chest. Her sample size may be small, but in her experience humans insist on being maddeningly stubborn and difficult to help. He cracks a small smile. 

“I know. I’m a pain in the ass. You don’t have to say it.” He tilts his head curiously. “You look nice. Off somewhere this evening?” 

She smooths the fabric of her sleeve. She’s wearing something she’d picked up on the Citadel ages ago but had never had the occasion to wear. She _does_ look nice. “I am having drinks in a little while with Dr. Elana Cho, one of the Alliance scientists who studies the protheans. We have exchanged a few papers in the past. She is rather excited to meet with me.”

“Do I detect an air of smugness, Dr. T’Soni?” 

She smiles. “Perhaps. But I had some time and wanted to see how your meeting with Admiral Hackett went.” 

His expression darkens. “Great. He said we have nothing to worry about and everything is completely fine.” 

Sarcasm is one of her least favorite of his traits. “What happened?” 

He puts his fingers to his forehead and exhales through his nose. “Do you mind skipping the interrogation? That’s what the next four days are for. I don’t need a head start.” 

“I am sorry,” she says. “I...worry about you. That’s all.” 

The small smile returns, a little broader this time. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

The overhead light is stark and unflattering, which only highlights Shepard’s haggard appearance. He’s lost weight since that day he’d nearly thrown her onto the _Normandy_ as the catwalk on Therum collapsed under their feet. She can see it in the hollows of his cheeks. “You look tired,” she says.

“I’m hearing that a lot.”

“You should rest tonight. Sounds like you may need it.” 

He leans his head back against the headboard. “Too damned quiet in here. Too much time to think. Thinking is not what I’m best at these days.” 

Liara shifts, her concern deepening. “Is it the beacon?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“Last night?” 

Consternation flashes across his face. “Yes.” 

“Shepard--”

“It’s better, Liara. I’m fine. Good days and bad days. You yourself said it would be like that.” 

Her lip twists. “Very well.” 

Shepard swings his feet over until they rest on the floor. “I just wish we were doing this on Arcturus. Planetside feels like someone else’s turf.” 

“But this is your home,” she says with surprise. 

“Humanity’s home,” he corrects her. “Not my home. I was born in space. Never had _home_ the way most people think of it. Home has always been my footlocker.” 

“That is...a lonely way to live.”

This time his smile is soft, almost sad. “Not once you figure out that home doesn’t have to be a place. Home can be people.”

After the past few months, Liara understands the sentiment. “Then perhaps you should find your home, and spend some time with them.” 

Shepard pulls out his omnitool. “Hey, look at that. My home found a bar. Maybe I’ll go have a drink while you run circles around Dr. Cho.”

“Promise me you will get some rest,” she pleads. 

“I promise I’ll try.” 

~

Kaidan takes his time disembarking the _Normandy._ The long, empty skybridge leading from the docking bay to the Alliance campus proper offers a glimpse of the bay. He comes to stop, leaning on a railing to just take in the city skyline. It’s only his second look at it since re-enlisting with the Alliance after BAaTT. 

Most of the memories he has here are good, but it’s the ones from right before he left that have kept him away. That disastrous walk in Hadden Park. The fight with his parents once he’d finally managed to get home.

The trip to the orchard three years ago had eroded some of the distance from that night. Shepard had been a bulwark to absorb some of the tension. Given his parents a chance to see someone else with an amp jack in the back of his neck. Given his mother someone else to focus on. Another convert to her risotto. Kaidan has never been able to get the recipe quite right. Not like she does.

They’d avoided a full frontal assault of the problem, but it had gotten the job done. He’d left Vancouver feeling better than he had when he arrived. Instead of the strained, obligatory messages on holidays and birthdays, he and his parents talked more. Mostly about little things. Common niceties. The weather. The horses his mother keeps at the orchard. Kaidan and his dad talk about pistol preferences. Anything but the implant. So long as they stay on solid ground they do fine. So long as Kaidan doesn’t _need_ them, they do fine.

Now he’s on his own. Solo mission this time. 

The silhouette of his omnitool flares up with a new message ping. Kaidan activates it fully and finds a message from Tali. 

_Joker and I found a bar. Do not go home until you stop here first. It’s important._

She’d sent him a navpoint.

Ok. He hadn’t anticipated his first stop in Vancouver being a bar, but given the way the week is headed, it’s fitting.

He finds them in a ritzy place one building over from the docking bay. The entrance is wide, the decor like something out of a hotel. Clearly they’ve wandered into the kind of place tailored for high ranking officers. Kaidan passes a Vice Admiral on his way in. 

The place is largely empty, which makes more sense when Kaidan checks his chronometer and sees it’s only 13:00 local time. Joker and Tali sit alone at the bar huddled over a datapad, severely underdressed for their surroundings and accompanied by a pair of half-empty glasses. A bartender keeps an eye on them from the other side of the bar. 

“Wait, wait,” Joker says. “I’m lost. Why are they pretending to be a couple?”

“To protect Commander Astra’s identity,” Tali replies. “If the assassin knows she’s an N7, he’d never show at the gala. They have to lure him out.”

“Yeah, but that makes the ambassador _bait_. How is that a good idea?”

Tali points at the datapad. “Because they get to _kiss._ As part of their cover. And _that’s_ how Ambassador Kela realizes she loves Astra!”

“But she’s _bait_.”

“Joker, if you don’t understand how romantic that scene is then I don’t know how to help you.”

“Do I even want to know?” Kaidan asks as he drops his duffle bag on the floor and takes the seat next to Tali. 

“Kaidan!” Tali exclaims. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Tali leans back as Joker slides a beer past her to Kaidan. “Happy homecoming.”

“Little early for a beer, isn’t it?” 

“It’s 20:00 on the _Normandy_. If you don’t want it, I’ll drink it.”

It’s a Canadian lager, on tap, and there’s no way Joker’s getting it back. Kaidan takes a long sip. There are definitely things about home he’s missed.

“So what’s the emergency?” Kaidan asks. “Sounded important.”

“Better let that kick in first,” Joker says. Tali elbows him.

“I got a strange message from your mother,” she says. “About the gala.”

“It’s just an invitation,” Kaidan replies. “She’s been nonstop since she learned we were coming here. Wanted to know if I thought it was a good idea for the crew to come. I told her it was up to all of you.”

Throwing a party to raise money for the dead seems morose, but others might appreciate the chance to do some celebrating. It’s not like they’ve really had a chance to stop and enjoy the victory over Sovereign, and Kaidan’s mother throws a pretty good party when she wants to. She had frequently described his grandparents as “stuffy socialites with too much money and not enough problems,” and had learned how to do it almost out of spite – a way to guilt high society into doing something useful with their money. Despite their differences, it’s one of the things he admires about her.

“Have you been _reading_ her messages?” Tali asks. 

Unease coils in the pit of his stomach. “Sort of.”

He’s been meaning to dig into them closer, but between preparing for the inquest and finding out about the _‘Yang_ , it’s been at the bottom of his list of fires to put out.

_(everyone is dead and I don’t know what to do)_

But he had caught onto a few oddities. This time around she’s been abnormally conservative. Invitation only. Something about keeping any active Alliance attendees to a minimum. Even something about security. Ordinarily her mission is to make a spectacle of things. Garner as much attention as possible.

Tali swipes at her datapad and hands it to him. He skims it, frown deepening.

“What the hell?”

“That’s what I said. Why would anyone need data security at a gala? It sounds like she’s expecting espionage.”

“Did you get to the best part yet?” Joker pipes in.

“She says I suggested she talk to you,” Kaidan says, brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t remember telling her to do that. I just told her how to get an invitation to you. Or…that’s what I thought I was doing.”

He keeps reading. Then pales.

“There it is,” Joker says.

“What does that mean?” Kaidan asks. 

Tali looks over his shoulder and reads aloud, “I really appreciate your help. It’s important to me that they can be themselves for a night. Kaidan says he trusts you, so I do, too.”

Kaidan rereads the words, then pulls a comm pad out of his pocket and starts scrolling through his own messages – carefully, this time. The more he reads, the more thankful he is for the beer.

Oh.

Oh, _no._

“Shit,” he mutters. Then laughs a hollow laugh on the brink of panic.

“What’s going on?” Tali asks.

Joker rests his chin on his elbow in order to see past Tali, who swivels on her seat to give Kaidan her full attention. _“Do_ tell.”

Kaidan signals the bartender, who looks less skeptical and more curious now, and orders a whiskey. The moment the bartender sets the shot down in front of him he downs it.

“I’ve only come home once since enlisting,” he says when the bartender retreats to a safe distance. “It was three years ago. Shepard came with me.”

Joker’s face contorts. “Why?”

“It’s a long story. Which apparently my parents didn’t understand either, because they think we’re…together.”

Tali makes a strangled sound in her throat as Joker spits some of his beer back in his glass.

Kaidan puts his head in his hands. “They think I’m fraternizing with a senior office, and because I said I’d come to this damn gala she’s trying to security proof it so I can go with _Shepard_ , without jeopardizing my career.”

Tali puts a hand on his arm. “Kaidan, that is…actually _really_ sweet of her.”

Joker wheezes with laughter. “I’m sorry, can we get back to the part where Kaidan’s parents think he’s dating Shepard? Because that’s what I’m stuck on.”

“True, this is a very fascinating development,” Tali agrees.

“I told her Shepard was coming to the condo with me,” Kaidan says, staring at his empty whiskey glass. 

Joker makes eye contact with the bartender, who is trying to feign interest in stocking lemons, taps his empty glass and bobs his head in Kaidan’s direction. 

“She thinks Shepard and I are both staying with them. She’s planning dinner tonight and everything.”

“ _Why_ would you tell her that?” Joker asks.

“I didn’t _think_ I was telling her that,” Kaidan snaps. “I said yes not realizing what the question was.”

Joker shakes his head. “How can you talk to your parents for three years without something like this coming up? You’d think your parents would ask about your boyfriend.”

_They had_ , Kaidan thinks with growing dismay. They always asked about Shepard. Just…never in those terms. Not out loud.

“They wouldn’t if they thought it would get me in trouble,” he murmurs. Standard comms were secure enough, but not from the Alliance. They could read any of his mail if they felt like it.

The bartender brings Joker a fresh beer and another shot. Kaidan takes it without looking up.

“I have a turian wine?” the bartender offers to Tali, almost hopefully. 

“Oh! That would be wonderful, thank you.” 

If things weren’t bad enough, the gravity well in the room shifts ever so slightly. “Fuck,” Kaidan says under his breath. 

“Look who’s here,” Joker says with a theatrical gesture. “We were just talking about you, Commander.”

Shepard sits down heavily on the seat next to Kaidan, gesturing to the bartender, who gapes at him wide-eyed. Drinks for everyone at 13:00 in the afternoon, it seems.

“I seem to be a popular topic of discussion these days,” Shepard says, tipping a two finger salute to the bartender.

Joker snorts. “Not like this I bet you’re not.”

Shepard glances over at Kaidan, eyeing the two empty shot glasses. “Seems things are going about as well for you as they are for me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kaidan mutters.

“That’s reassuring,” Shepard replies. The bartender returns, reverently delivering two more shots and Tali’s wine. Kaidan hasn’t even lifted his off the bar before Shepard’s is gone.

From the looks of it, the meeting with Hackett hadn’t exactly been stellar.

Kaidan doesn’t have to turn his head to see the stupid grin on Joker’s face as he leans in even farther to speak past Tali and Kaidan. “Kaidan is having family drama.”

Shepard glances down the bar towards Joker, sets his glass down and turns his attention to Kaidan. The concern in his eyes only makes everything worse. “Everything ok?”

“I said don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.”

“His parents think you two are dating.”

Kaidan turns away from Shepard to shoot Joker a murderous look, then immediately checks to make sure the bartender is out of earshot.

Shepard’s eyebrow raises. “Ok. That’s…different.”

“It’s fine, Shepard,” Kaidan says, finishing his shot. “I’ll handle it.”

Shepard looks from Kaidan to the now three empty shot glasses. “You definitely look like you’re handling it. You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Not really,” Kaidan replies. 

“It’s quite touching, actually,” Tali says, pushing into Kaidan’s personal space to talk to Shepard without raising her voice. “His parents thought your visit three years ago was to introduce you as Kaidan’s partner. They’ve been keeping it quiet until now to protect Kaidan’s career.” 

“I’ll handle it,” Kaidan repeats.

Shepard rests a hand on Kaidan’s shoulder. It’s brief, too brief, but reassuring all the same. When he pulls his hand away to signal the bartender, something inside Kaidan aches. The bartender immediately pours two more whiskeys. 

“Does this place serve food?” Tali asks. “I’m starving.”

Joker scans a menu. “No. But there’s got to be a place here somewhere that has something dextro for you. Let’s go find it.” 

“How chivalrous!” Tali rises to her feet and hands Joker his crutches. 

“Don’t get too excited,” he informs her, taking them from her and hoisting himself up. “You have to tell me about the next book.”

“Oooh, the one where Astra convinces Kela to join the N program so they can be special agents together?”

Joker makes a face. “I don’t think that’s how that works. Shepard, is that how the N program works?”

Shepard swivels in his seat until his back faces the bar. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m gonna just go out on a limb and say no.”

Tali puts her hands on her hips. “You still want to read it though, don’t you.”

“Shut up. Come on.” 

Shepard watches them go, then rotates back to the bar. “What the hell is their deal?”

“Meddling is their deal,” Kaidan mutters.

The bartender delivers the next round, and actually salutes this time before retreating. Shepard returns it solemnly, then leans an elbow on the bar and turns his attention to Kaidan. “So. Your folks think I’m dating you.”

“Yeah.” 

Shepard chuckles. “It’s not often I get to actually see your head exploding.”

Kaidan bristles, but it dissipates when he catches sight of the kindness in Shepard’s face. Instead his stomach flips, and he takes another sip of whiskey.

“Why don’t you tell me how this happened, and we’ll figure it out.” 

“There’s nothing you need to figure out, Shepard. It’s my mess. I’ll take care of it. They just…misunderstood. I was too distracted to spot it, so now in the middle of an inquest I get to tell them the bridge they’ve been building for the last three years isn’t real.”

Shepard frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“My mom and I don’t…share things,” Kaidan says, swirling what’s left of the drink in his glass. “Being open with each other isn’t something we’ve ever been good at. If she and my father thought I brought you home as a partner…that would have been huge to them. Especially given you’re my CO. Big show of trust on my part. That they chose to accept it and have even tried to _protect_ me from ramifications…I’m sure that was hard for them. They’re fixers, Shepard. Part of the reason we’re not close is that they want to fix _everything_.”

“Like the biotics,” Shepard says quietly. 

Kaidan nods. Before he’d been whisked off to Jump Zero, his mother had dragged him to doctor after doctor, both civilian and Alliance, in hopes that biotic potential was a disease that could be cured. 

“This is something they very much would have wanted to _fix_ ,” Kaidan says. “But they didn’t. They just…let it go. They’ve never done that. So now I get to go home and tell them they were completely wrong. The trust they’ve been showing me for the last three years is based on something that doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah,” Shepard agrees. “Ok. Head explosion.”

Kaidan mimics an explosion with his fingers. “So. My problem. I’ll handle it.”

“Have to admit though,” Shepard says, swallowing the rest of his shot, “I’ve been called a lot worse things than your boyfriend.”

Kaidan blinks. The whiskey’s definitely caught up to him. It’s warm in here, and he has to have imagined what just came out of Shepard’s mouth.

“Really.”

“Compared to getting shot at and having an inquest shoved up my ass? I’m pretty sure holding your hand, going home with you and eating your mom’s risotto is a considerable improvement, yes.”

Kaidan laughs. Or tries to. It comes out as more of a hoarse squawk. “Sure, I’ll just avoid this whole mess by bringing you home with me. They’ll never have to know.”

Shepard huffs into his glass. Kaidan’s heart beats a little faster. What would it feel like to actually hold Shepard’s hand? Not ablative to ablative, pulling each other out of danger. Not the casual pat on the shoulder, brushed knuckles handing off a datapad…what would it feel like, _really_ feel like, to lace their fingers? Walk the streets of Vancouver hand in hand?

He wipes the corner of his mouth. His drink is almost gone and it’s tempting to order another. The bartender is inventorying bottles now, glancing in their direction ever so often. The whiskey bottle is still out and ready. 

“Maybe they don’t,” Shepard says, and Kaidan nearly chokes.

“You want to come home with me and pretend to be my boyfriend.”

The corner of Shepard’s mouth curves up in a wan smile. “Nah. Forget about it.” He holds up what’s left of the whiskey in his glass and swirls it.

Kaidan’s heart yammers in his ears. “No. Tell me what you meant.”

“Nothing. Just a bad day. And the quarters they assigned me are way too fucking quiet.”

It’s that wistful smile that twists Kaidan’s heart. It’s the same as the one Shepard had given him when Kaidan found him sitting on the floor, head in his hands, before they’d stolen the _Normandy._ Such a far cry from the Butcher of Torfan. So unlike the man who’d stared down Saren. This larger than life human, a Spectre afraid of nothing, looking small and lost. 

“What happened with Hackett?” he asks softly.

“Just calling things as he sees it,” Shepard says, polishing off the drink.

“And how does he see it?”

“That the Alliance and the Council have a lot in common. That it’s on me to keep screaming into the void, find a way when no one listens. Be a good soldier, even if it means fighting alone.” 

“We defeated a _reaper_. How could they possibly not listen to you now?”

This time his smile is bitter. “You’d be surprised.”

Kaidan opens his mouth, closes it again. The temptation to reach out and grab Shepard’s hand is almost more than he can stand.

“Haven’t heard from my mom yet, either.” Shepard spins the empty shot glass in a circle on the bar, then frowns. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Nothing?” 

Shepard’s relationship with his mother is something they rarely touch, but this seems extreme even for them. Captain Hannah Shepard’s son had been caught up in the most important battle of their lifetimes. He’s saved them _all_. And she hasn’t tried to talk to him?

“Nope. I’m sure she knows I’m alive. Which is probably exactly why she hasn’t reached out. I’m not dead, so what would she need to say? I did my job.” He flicks the glass with a finger. “It would just be nice to know every now and then that she worried. I guess.”

“Shepard…”

“Forget it. I’m just tired. Little envious of people like you, I guess. Who get to go home. Have someone to go home _to_. After meeting your parents once, they feel more like family to me than my own does.” He shakes his head. “Dammit. Sorry. I—sorry. Liara said something that got under my skin. It shouldn’t have.”

_(this is exactly the time when it can be kinda nice to have someone be there for you.)_

Kaidan puts a hand on Shepard’s wrist. “Come home with me.”

“What?”

“Come home with me,” Kaidan repeats, words tumbling out of his mouth before he has time to even wrap his mind around what they mean.

“Pretend to be in a relationship with you? In the middle of an inquest? Kaidan, I’m not the only one they’ll be looking at, you know.”

“If they want to pin me to a wall they’re going to do it. I helped you steal a prototype starship right out of the Citadel, remember? Besides, the only ones who think we’re together are my parents. My hand isn’t so irresistible that you can’t drop it when they’re not around.”

Now that the root has taken hold Kaidan doesn’t know how to let it go. When Shepard doesn’t answer the words keep coming, like he’s opened a dam and can’t find the shutoff valve.

“Shepard, I know you. You’re going to be climbing the walls here at Command. You’re not alone, so don’t _feel_ alone. Come home with me.”

Kaidan’s hand is still on Shepard’s wrist. Instead of removing it, Kaidan grips it a little tighter. Shepard looks down at his hand, then back up at Kaidan.

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not. I’m offering. You’re going to spend the next week being picked apart. If you want a place to come home to afterwards, let me give you that.”

Shepard blinks. Shifts in his seat. “Yeah. Ok. It’ll be fine, right?”

“Sure. It’ll be fine.”

“And it’s just for a few days.”

“Exactly. How hard could it be?”

“Not very, apparently. We just have to do more of what we did before. Whatever we did.”

“Yeah. That. Just be you and me.”

“Right.” Shepard smiles. It’s softer now, bitterness gone in place of something real. Kaidan doesn’t see that smile enough anymore. “I think we’ve proven over the years we’re pretty good at you and me.”

They are. They always have been. They’ve spent five years learning each others’ strengths. Weaknesses. Figuring out how much Shepard’s amp can take before overheating. Anticipating which hostile he’ll target before he moves. Where the next ECM grenade needs to go to give him an edge before he gets there. 

It goes both ways. Unbridled chaos erupts anytime Shepard goes weapons hot, but time and again he’s shown a sixth sense for the moment Kaidan winds up in trouble. The krogan on Therum. The rachni soldier on their dash to the elevator before the neutron purge. Sharjila. The beacon. Shepard is always _there_ when Kaidan needs him, like a damned angel on his shoulder.

But it’s a lot more than that. 

Has been since the day they met in a crappy bar on Arcturus, when the ruthless man everyone called the Butcher of Torfan had turned out to be painfully, remarkably human. From there it had grown into midnight talks in the _Myeongyang’s_ mess, because they’re both terrible sleepers who liked to break into the galley after hours. The difference being Kaidan can cook and Shepard can set a coffee pot on fire. And then it had grown into something else. 

Shepard has so many layers. Peeling through them, figuring out what’s real and not what he wants others to see had taken years. And it hadn’t been without missteps. But what he’d discovered has been everything. 

Underneath the cold, callous butcher is someone who would burn down the galaxy for the people he cared for. Someone who loved to laugh and was desperate for a reason to. Someone with a reckless smile who didn’t know how to hold still and yearned for the freedom to live for himself but would never dare. Someone who would follow his lieutenant to the BC Interior and stay with a family that wasn’t his, because he always knows when Kaidan is in trouble. 

Always. 

_(what do you have against being happy?)_

Maybe he can’t have what he wants. But he could have this. Just for a little while.

He gets up from his seat, balance wavering a little when his foot gets tangled with his bag. Shepard grabs his arm to steady him. “Easy. You all right, there?”

They catch each other’s gaze. Kaidan thinks back to the person who’d been XO of the _Myeongyang._ Back then, the spark in his eye hadn’t been so hard to find, and he’d been a lot quicker to laugh. 

It’s happened slowly, over the course of months _._ So easy to miss. Until you looked. 

They want too much from him. They’ve always wanted too much from him, Kaidan included.

If there’s a chance, even a _chance_ , Kaidan can take some of that away for him, even for a little while, he’ll do it. 

“You coming?” he asks.

Shepard nods, as if coming out of a trance. “Yeah.”

It’s just a few days. Blur a few lines for a little while. They can redraw them later.

_We’re pretty good at you and me_.

It’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

Everything will be fine. 


	3. Make Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, there was only one bed...

_We'd set our course to live or die_  
_Across the universe_  
_I'd be by your side_  
_If we could only make believe_

[ x ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4vNLHMqBdMvjTngXR5aWcZ?si=bc1YCKHMSV2lHEVkltky6A)

**Make Believe**

The city has changed just enough that it feels both familiar and alien at the same time. It’s unseasonably warm for October, at least for today, and while clouds gather out in the distance, for now they don’t hold rain. Through the skycar windows Kaidan spies kayakers gliding through the bay and a steady stream of joggers winding around the seawall.

Kits Point still looks more or less the same, but there’s a new skyrise going up near the bridge, and past the museums and the marina it looks like yet another new development boom is underway. Kaidan's favorite café – the best Vietnamese food he’s ever had – is now some trendy restaurant serving asari cuisine.

He tries to picture what it would look like with the massive silhouette of a reaper descending from the sky and shudders.

“You’re thinking really hard about something,” Shepard says as they exit the skycar at a stop along Cornwall Avenue a few blocks from his parents building. He’s already shed years off his shoulders in the few kilometers they’ve put between themselves and Command. 

“Just…realizing how much we have to lose, I guess. If we hadn’t defeated Saren this skyline might look a lot different right about now.”

“We did defeat him,” Shepard says. “And we’ll find a way to keep the reapers off our doorstep if they want another shot at it.”

“Yeah, well. I wouldn’t argue if someone else wants to do it next time.”

Shepard chuckles. “Fair enough.”

Kaidan comes to a stop in front of Kitsilano Towers, looks up to seek out the balcony belonging to his parents. He almost never finds it, but always looks.

They’re up there. Waiting for him to come home.

“Second thoughts?” 

“No,” Kaidan says, too quickly. “Just…a little nervous. I guess. Feels a little like walking into Chora’s Den expecting liquor and instead having a bunch of guns pointed at your face.”

“We handled that one pretty well, as I recall.”

When Kaidan doesn’t answer Shepard moves into his line of sight, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“What’s the count right now?”

Kaidan frowns. “What?”

“Come on. I’m trying to make a point.”

Kaidan folds his arms across his chest. “You talking narrow escapes or life-and-death rescues? Because I think my last count was forty-eight to twenty-nine in favor of me saving your ass and we’re four and three on dramatic rescues. Also in favor of me.”

Shepard’s brow furrows. “No way. We’re at least an even split on that one.”

“The pirates don’t count, Shepard, I wasn’t dying.”

“I still carried you out.”

“Then by _that_ logic, we’re five and four.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow and Kaidan shrugs.

“I left out Eden Prime because it was kind of my fault.”

“So what you’re saying is I need to find a rock to bash your head in with so I can even the score.”

Kaidan chuckles. “I’m sorry, you said you were trying to make a point?” 

That small, soft smile comes back and Kaidan’s stomach flips. “Whatever’s up there, it’s still gonna be you and me.”

_We’re pretty good at you and me._

Shepard holds out his hand. “All this talk about holding hands, it occurs to me we’ve never done it. Should we try it on? Hate to fuck it up when it counts.”

Kaidan eyes the offered hand. This is what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? This. Right here. To know what it would feel like.

_Are you sure?_

He reaches for it. They fumble awkwardly a few times before Shepard deftly weaves their fingers together. “There you go,” he says with a chuckle. “How the _hell_ are your hands so damn cold?”

A flush creeps up Kaidan’s neck. His hands are always cold. Half the reason he drinks coffee is to warm them up in the morning. Shepard’s, of course, are warm, comforting. And fit his perfectly.

No armor between them. No gunfire. No HUD alarms. Just…life. Skin to skin, flesh and blood. Kaidan’s cold hand tucked neatly in Shepard’s warm one.

“And for the record,” Shepard informs him, “there’s no way you’ve saved my ass forty-eight times.”

“You’re right. It’s definitely higher than that. Come on, let’s go.”

~

Lora Alenko checks the risotto one more time. Table is set. Clean towels in the bathroom. Bed has fresh linens. She even dusted the model cars in Kaidan’s bedroom.

“Lora,” Marc calls from the living room. “It’s fine.”

“I know.”

Marc’s ability to sit still in moments like this is one of the only things she envies about his Alliance training.

She’d forgotten to check Kaidan’s shower for soap and shampoo. She’s two steps from his bedroom door when Marc grabs her by the arm. In addition to his uncanny ability to sit still, he’s also extraordinarily quick to get to his feet.

“Hey. You. You’re channeling your mother.”

“I am _not_ my mother,” she protests, yanking her arm away.

After forty-nine years his smile is still disarming. “I said channeling.”

She wipes her hands on her pants. “I just…want everything to be right.”

He kisses her forehead. “He’s our son. Stop treating him like a guest.”

Of course Kaidan isn’t a guest. But it feels like he is. That second bedroom she’s never had the heart to change has been empty for going on ten years.

It’s been so long. So many mistakes along the way.

She still remembers the sound of the door slamming the night he’d left. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget it.

“The commander is, though,” she says.

Marc’s expression darkens a little. “We talked about this. No rank. Not here. Let’s not make this more awkward than it is. Please?”

“It’s not awkward for me.”

“But it is for Kaidan,” he says gently, cupping her chin so she looks him in the eye. “You’re the one who insisted we support him, even if we think he’s taking a risk.”

“ _You_ think he’s taking a risk.”

“He _is._ ”

She’s pushing him. She knows it. They’ve had the same argument dozens of times, and nothing new ever gets said. But after this long together, sometimes they can’t help but push each other’s buttons.

She grips the front of his shirt, even though he’ll hate the wrinkle it leaves. “We can’t push him away again. I don’t care what it means. For us or for him. He can set his career on fire for all I care, if that’s what he wants to do. So long as he knows he can come _home_.”

He smiles at her, brushing a stay lock of hair behind her ear. There’s more silver now than brown. In spite of herself she kind of likes it. She’s greying out just like a horse. “And that’s why we’re supporting him.”

The timer sounds.

“Damn,” she mutters, breaking away from him to go check the risotto. Done too early? Her timing is usually so perfect. She’s getting rusty. Too many things. Too many details.

When she comes back out of the kitchen she comes to a halt.

She must not have heard the door chime. There he is. In the doorway with Marc, patting the head of the ceramic giraffe that’s sat in the entryway since before Kaidan was born. Just like he used to do every day he came home from school.

Kaidan. Here. Whole. _Alive_ . A grown man, not the sixteen-year-old kid she still tends to picture. He’s wearing his father’s smile. Subtle. Reserved. He used to _grin_. Rush headlong into the world.

Is it her fault he’s lost that?

He and Marc both turn their heads towards her. Kaidan’s expression shifts. She can’t read it. There had been a time when he couldn’t hide anything from her. 

“Hey, Mom.”

“Kaidan,” she whispers, closing the last few steps and throwing her arms around him. His shoulders tighten, then relax, and he hugs her back. She’d forgotten how tall he is. Taller than Marc. “You’re here. You’re ok.”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m ok.”

“We heard about the _Myeongyang.”_

He stiffens around her, drops his arms and pulls away. The smile is still there, but it looks frozen. Her heart plummets.

“Yeah. We, uh, lost a lot of friends.” His glances quickly over his shoulder at the person standing behind him. 

Shepard.

_Commander_ Shepard, the Butcher of Torfan, or the Savior of the Citadel, as the newsfeeds are now branding him. They can call him anything they want so long as her son is here, alive, unharmed while the galaxy descends into madness.

Her chest tightens. She won’t cry. Instead she puts her arms around Shepard and hugs him just as hard. He’s just as tense as Kaidan, but unlike her son he doesn’t relax. Tentatively he hugs her back, like she’s a foreign thing that might break. Perhaps she is, to him.

“Thank you,” she says, voice rough. But she isn’t crying. Not this time, anyway. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Lora,” Marc says gently, prying her away.

“I know,” she says, raising her hands defensively. “I know. I’m overreacting. I always do. Sorry. Come in, come in.” She wipes an eye as she turns to lead them into the living room.

“Come on. Put your stuff down. Take a seat, relax. I’m sure you’re tired. Need anything to drink? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Mom.” There’s a smile in Kaidan’s voice this time. “Relax. We’re fine. Just…happy to be here.”

“She’s been like this all day,” Marc says under his breath as she disappears into the kitchen.

“I can hear you,” she calls out. She checks the risotto again. Perfect. Plates are out. Table is set. Everything’s ready.

Before she goes back into the living room she braces her hands against the sink, exhaling slowly. When she exits the kitchen her expression is poised, smile unfractured.

In the living room, Marc gives Shepard rapt attention as he speaks about something to do with combat armor. Despite his stoicism and uneasiness about Shepard’s relationship with Kaidan, he can’t hide his eagerness to talk shop with an N7. Seven years retired and she’s coming to terms with the fact that he’ll always be Alliance.

What she doesn’t expect is the deference Marc shows him. Marc retired a colonel, accustomed to giving orders rather than taking them. But he bends around Shepard like water around a rock, and she doesn’t think he realizes it. He’d done the same thing at the orchard three years ago. You’d think an Admiral had entered the room the way Marc came to attention when Shepard was around. She’s never known someone so young to have so much presence. And she doubts anyone has taught it to him.

Kaidan scans the room, curiosity in his eyes, looking for what’s new, what’s stayed the same. They haven’t changed much in the last decade. Same photos on the wall. More clutter than he probably remembers. The condo isn’t large, but they’ve been in it for nearly forty years – it adds up. The couch is new, at least. After the cat died it had finally been time to get something sans fur and claw marks.

Kaidan brushes one of the photo frames with a finger, faraway smile on his face. She thinks it’s one of the family portraits. The one where he was three, eyes red and mouth parted mid-wail. No power on earth was going to get him to smile for the camera that day. It’s one of her favorites. 

Her family is here. Whole.

“Dinner’s ready,” she says finally, eyes on Shepard. “Risotto. You enjoyed it last time, as I recall.”

Shepard stands to attention, hands clasped behind his back, as if she’s a drill instructor. “Kaidan is quite the cook. But he can’t touch your risotto, ma’am. And believe me, he tries.”

Her smile broadens. The vids fail to show how charming he is.They fail to show a lot. 

Without the armor on he’s lean, though not as lithe as her son. Military haircut, which calls attention to a scar on his forehead that cuts into his hairline. It’s his eyes that stand out. A sharp, salient blue that remind her of a two way mirror. When you look at them, you just see yourself reflected back. Easy to forget he sees you, too. 

As she recalls from the trip to the orchard, Shepard sees everything.

“You can’t trust his palate,” Kaidan says. “He was content with nothing but MREs before I got involved.”

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to take the compliment from the Savior of the Citadel. Come on. It’s in the kitchen. I’m not serving. All of my entertaining skills are reserved for the gala.”

Kaidan puts a hand on her shoulder on the way to the kitchen. “You don’t have to do any entertaining.”

She does just a little. There’s an ’81 of the redcurrant in the pantry that she digs out. But before she returns to the table with it she hovers in the doorway of the kitchen, watches her family settle in. The smile has returned to Kaidan’s face – a real one, closer to what she remembers. Shepard leans over to say something and Kaidan laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners, the sidelong glance he gives in return full of something pure and genuine.

Kaidan never had a lot of crushes as a kid. She’d always believed he was the type who would give everything he had or nothing at all. And not to just anyone. The _right_ person. Her only question was whether or not he’d ever find what he was looking for.

She doesn’t need to ask to know he has.

~

Kaidan and his father take care of the dishes while his mother peppers Shepard with questions out on the balcony. Kaidan almost feels sorry for him, but at least he’d had some idea of what he was getting into. She’d talked his ear off at the orchard, too. 

“How are you doing?” his father asks.

“Good. I’m good, Dad. All things considered. Been a hell of a few months.”

His father nods. Stern. Crisp. Still a model soldier. In lieu of a uniform he just wears his posture like one. “They’re keeping a lot of the details under wraps. What hasn’t made it into the feeds, at least. Even my connections at Command aren’t being very forthcoming. I won’t lie, I’m worried about this inquest.”

“Shepard is, too,” Kaidan murmurs, stealing a glance towards the balcony, thinking about the meeting with Hackett. He opens a cabinet to put a pot away, realizes quickly that’s not where it belongs. His dad takes it and finds its rightful place.

“I think you know what I mean.”

Kaidan puts a hand to his forehead. “Dad. Please.”

“I tried to talk her out of this gala. You know her. All she could think about was finding some way to help.”

_Fix things_. He finds what’s left of his glass of wine and finishes it. “I know. It’s a nice thing to do.”

“She wants you to be able to relax for a night. You know you can’t do that. Not here, not now.”

“Thanks. Yes. I get it.” He starts to rinse the wine glass, thinks better of it and pours himself another with what’s left in the bottle. Nothing like pretending to not love your CO while also pretending you do while having to make others think that you don’t. Forget wetware – this is the stuff migraines are made of.

Why, _why_ did they do this? 

He eyes the wine glass. 

Right. _That’s_ why. 

Shockingly, his father softens a little. “Yes. You do. You don’t need to hear any of this from me.”

His mother comes back into the kitchen, sees the empty bottle of wine and pulls out another. “You look tired,” she observes as she digs out the corkscrew. “Getting enough sleep?”

"Something like that.”

“How are the migraines?”

“Same as always.”

“Did you ever look into that treatment regimen I sent you?”

“Dr. Chakwas has me covered.”

“Well, I—”

“Mom.”

“Ok. You’re right.” She leans back against the sink. His father takes the wine from her, fills her glass then absconds to the balcony with the rest of the bottle. The sun is starting to set. From the looks of it, the sky is going to put on a show. Been a long time since he’s seen a good sunset.

His mother pats his arm. “I’ve got your old room all made up.”

“Shepard can have my room. I’ll take the fold out bed.”

“Do you really call him Shepard?” she asks, amusement in her face.

Kaidan nearly chokes mid-swallow. “Um. Habit...I guess?”

“Oh, and we got rid of the sleeper sofa. Did you see the new loveseat?”

He stiffens, eyes widening in alarm. “I…no. Ah.”

“Kaidan,” she says with a smile that knows far too much for a parent. “I told you…I wanted the two of you to have a chance to be yourselves. Don’t imagine you get much time together on the ship.”

Fuck.

If _only_ he’d paid attention to his messages. Fuck the whiskey. Fuck Hackett. Fuck everything that had led to this sounding anything remotely close to a good idea. 

“Right. Uh. Thanks, Mom.”

She clinks her glass to his before walking out to join the others on the balcony. She steps into the open arms of his father, who wraps her up and kisses the top of her head. They’re both older, greyer, but the sight of them together is still so familiar. A constant. Even when the waters got rough they somehow always managed to hang onto each other. Something he’d always admired.

Shepard stands beside them, arms resting on the railing, covering for his stiff left hip by shifting his weight to his right leg. He stares up at the sky like he’s never seen it before. Not often the spacer kid gets to see skies like this. At least, in an environment where neither the flora or fauna are trying to kill him. Maybe not since the last time they’d come to Earth and watched the sun come up on a porch swing.

There’s enough room for Kaidan to slide in next to him if he wants to. Like he belongs there. Like they all belong there.

_Whiskey or no, this is what you wanted. To see what it would be like_.

Out over the bay, the sun sets the clouds alight with a riot of color. Shepard glances over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow in a silent question. Kaidan shakes his head ever so slightly and steps onto the balcony, filling the space Shepard has left for him.

“I definitely missed this,” Shepard murmurs, looking out at the color-streaked sky.

Kaidan only nods, not trusting himself to speak over the lump in his throat.

Shepard nudges Kaidan slightly with his shoulder. “Hey. You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He remembers his mother’s pronouncement about the sleeping arrangements. “But there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Now?”

“No.”

Shepard holds his wine glass in one hand, but the one next to Kaidan is empty. He wars with himself before giving into temptation, then slips his own hand into Shepard’s and folds their fingers together. This time it’s seamless.

Shepard’s brow quirks in surprise, but he says nothing. It might be his imagination, but Kaidan could swear he actually grips his hand a little tighter.

Out on the horizon, the burst of color slowly fades into the rich blue of dusk. Streetlights below begin flaring to life, and tiny dots like stars appear in the bay where ships float slowly towards home.

“It can wait.”

~

Shepard’s eyes rove the walls of Kaidan’s bedroom. He’s wearing a pair of PT shorts, skin still damp from a shower. He hasn’t gotten around to a shirt. Kaidan has seen Shepard without a shirt dozens of times.

Just…not in his childhood bedroom.

“So. We get to be bunkmates.”

Kaidan snaps his brain back to the present. “Yeah. Uh. Blame the mission briefing. Bad intel. You can still abort.”

“And miss all this?” Shepard says with a gesture.

The comforter on the bed is different, but aside from that Kaidan’s room hasn’t changed much since BAaTT knocked on his door at age sixteen. The Alliance recruitment poster still hangs on the wall. Hockey trophies adorn the shelf over his dresser, his model car collection displayed on a pair of shelves on the opposite wall. It’s a weird monument to a person he hardly recognizes anymore.

Shepard wanders over to the model cars. “I had no idea you collected models.”

“Everyone needs a hobby, I guess.” Kaidan hasn’t thought about those cars in years, but as a kid he’d devoted endless hours to procuring, assembling and painting the whole collection. He still knows every inch of every one by heart.

“Kaidan, we’ve spent plenty of nights together in worse places,” Shepard reminds him, coming back to the issue at hand. “I’d hardly call sharing a bed in a posh condo tower a hardship.”

“At least I don’t snore.”

Shepard grins back at him and snatches a clean undershirt out of his own bag. “Yeah, except you do.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh really? You want evidence?” Shepard starts ticking off on his fingers. “All the times I’ve waited for you to wake up in a medbay—”

“All two of them. That was anesthesia, not sleep.”

“—the times you slept off a migraine in my quarters—”

“Medication.”

“—there was the night on Mavigon, oh, and of course, Sharjila. I’m well versed in your snoring habits.”

“You were too busy bleeding out on Sharjila to notice if I snore and we were too cold to sleep on Mavigon.”

Shepard snaps his fingers and points. “The porch swing at the orchard.”

“What about it?” Kaidan demands, folding his arms across his chest. 

“You fell asleep waiting for the sun to come up. And snored.”

“You’re exaggerating. I dozed off.”

“You drooled on my shoulder. Kaidan, just face it. You snore. It’s kind of endearing, really.”

Kaidan laughs. “Your burden to bear, I guess.”

“A lot better than being at Command.” His expression sobers. “Thank you. I know this isn’t…ideal.”

“Yeah, well.” Kaidan puts his bag on the bed and starts rifling through it to avoid looking Shepard in the eye. “Pendergrass said your luck isn’t good enough to last long without me around, so just doing my part.”

He keeps fishing around in his bag for, who knows, socks, maybe, until Shepard’s silence gets the better of him and he looks up. Shepard leans against Kaidan’s dresser, arms loosely crossed, watching him with that perceptive gaze Kaidan has never been able to hide from.

“Have you responded to her yet?”

_(everyone’s dead and I don’t know what to do)_

Kaidan shakes his head, abandons the bag and just sits down on the bed. “I don’t know what to say. She always came to me for advice. Mentoring. I don’t know what to tell _myself_. What am I supposed to tell her that’s going to mean anything?”

“Sometimes it’s not about saying the right thing,” Shepard says, flopping onto the bed. He tugs awkwardly at the sheets and comforter until he manages to wrangle himself underneath, making a hopeless mess of them in the process. He props the pillow up behind him and leans back against it. “Sometimes it’s just…not feeling so damn alone in it all.”

Shepard’s not the only one who can be perceptive.

“You’re not alone, Shepard.”

Shepard glances at him, then to the bed. A slow smile turns to a grin. “Quite literally, at the moment. Do you feel sixteen again?”

“Didn’t bring a fake boyfriend home at sixteen, so not quite.” Kaidan pulls back the covers on his side of the bed and slips under them.

“Real one then. Or a girlfriend. Whatever.”

Kaidan chuckles. “You are the first person, real or imagined, I have ever brought home. Whatever that says about me.”

“Says you’re you,” Shepard replies, leaning over to grasp for his bag on the floor. Somehow he manages not to fall out of bed as he digs out a datapad, but in the process he yanks half the covers off. Kaidan gives him a withering look as he reclaims what he can.

“My mom thinks it’s weird I call you Shepard, by the way.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow without looking up from the datapad. “What else would you call me?”

“Well…I mean. You do have a name.”

He shakes his head in distaste. “No one calls me by my first name. Pretty sure Wrex doesn’t even _know_ my first name.”

“What’s so wrong with your name?”

“Nothing, I guess. But if people start calling me Sam, eventually someone is going to get cute and call me Sammy, and then I’ll have to kill them.”

Kaidan laughs outright.

Shepard tilts his head. “That does raise an interesting question, though. Do we have pet names for each other?”

“ _Please_ , no.”

“No, seriously.” He nestles his shoulders back against his pillow. “What term of endearment would you want to have in a relationship? I’m dying to know.”

“I don’t think you pick those kinds of things,” Kaidan says, reaching for his own datapad, which he’d thought ahead enough to place on the nightstand. “I think they just happen.”

“Humor me.”

Kaidan thinks for a moment. “Hey, you.” 

“You’re telling me in an intimate moment with the person you love, you’d want them to say, ‘hey, you?’”

“That’s what I’m saying.” 

“Somehow I don’t think you’re taking me seriously.”

Kaidan sets the datapad down. “Years ago, I overheard my parents having an argument in the kitchen. I was probably... thirteen or so? It was late at night, I’m sure they thought I was asleep. I have no idea what they were fighting about, but my mom was really upset. She asked him...why they were still together. To this day I’ve never forgotten what he said.”

“What did he say?”

“‘Because I choose you,” Kaidan recites. “’I'll choose you over and over and over. Without pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat, I'll keep choosing you.’”

Shepard’s gaze burns a hole through him.

“Anyway. I found out later it’s a quote from somewhere. But after that, I started noticing they always say ‘hey, you’ to each other. No idea if there’s actually any correlation...but I kind of like to think there is.”

Shepard is quiet for a long time. “I sometimes forget what a romantic you are,” he says finally, voice unexpectedly soft.

“Yeah, well.”

“You should get some sleep,” Shepard advises, rolling over to flip off the light on his nightstand. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“Good night, Shepard.” 

Shepard’s breathing evens out almost instantly. It’s like he has a switch. Either he doesn’t sleep at all, or he’s out cold as soon as he shuts his eyes. After Feros, he’d fallen sound asleep in the mess, still wearing his armored boots, cup of coffee steaming next to his hand.

Their lives together have always been defined by biofeeds, locator pings and layers of ablative. To measure him by the gentle rise and fall of his chest and nothing more casts him in a whole new, undiscovered light.

The memory of Shepard’s warm hand, clasped so firmly in his, solid, real, won’t leave Kaidan’s head.

_Not real._

He stares at the ceiling for a long time before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to share this chapter for MONTHS. I had SO MUCH FUN with it. I hope you did, too!


	4. See Myself Clearer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joker has a field day. Tali ponders rain and...other things. Liara is a badass. Shepard confides. Kaidan cannot find his fucking pillow.

_I thought I saw the devil this morning_   
_Looking in the mirror_

[ x ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4JuJZzGcswQszYiKJSnC6i?si=Nbvg2DqFQ-WLKcyTXySJPQ)

**See Myself Clearer**

Shepard’s side of the bed is empty when Kaidan wakes up, but he’s certainly left his mark behind. The sheets are twisted around Kaidan’s right leg, while his left leg is completely uncovered and he can’t figure out how. His pillow has somehow become Shepard’s, and the pillow that _had_ been Shepard’s is MIA. When Kaidan tries to get up his right ankle stays snared in the wadded sheet and he nearly falls out of bed.

Shepard emerges from the en-suite bathroom, wearing full dress blues in place of traditional Alliance fatigues. Not so much as a wrinkle to be found anywhere on his uniform.

“What?” he asks in response to Kaidan’s pointed look.

Kaidan gestures from Shepard’s pristine uniform to the wadded mess on the bed. “How is _this_ and _that_ the same person?”

“ _Me?_ What makes you think that was me?”

Kaidan reclaims his pillow with more theatrics than are strictly necessary. “Do you fight geth in your sleep?”

“Sometimes.”

“No wonder you’re always exhausted.”

Shepard grins. “Buried in that baseless accusation, did I hear you tell me I look good in a dress uniform?”

A flush creeps up Kaidan’s neck. Shepard would look good dressed in a fucking sac. He’s given more thought to what Shepard looks like in - and out - of his clothes than he’s willing to admit. 

“You’re a study in contrasts, Shepard.”

“Nice to know I can impress you from time to time.”

The last time he’d seen Shepard wear a dress uniform was the promotion ceremony on Arcturus, a few days before boarding the _Normandy_. When Shepard had dropped the ‘Lieutenant’ from his commander title, and Kaidan had become a Staff Lieutenant instead of a First. The last time they’d seen Captain Oseguera, Pendergrass and Beaudoin. It was also the only time he’d ever caught a glimpse of Captain Shepard. She’d stood in the back beside Captain Anderson, chin high, arms clasped behind her back at parade rest.

The uniform hangs looser Shepard than it had that day. Less than a year ago, but it feels like a lifetime. 

It’s only 0630 when they emerge from the bedroom, Kaidan tugging at his sleeves in a wasted effort to get more comfortable. Dress uniforms are designed to be seen, not worn. At least not comfortably. He’d swear the sleeves fit shorter than they had last time. He and Shepard both have a change of clothes stashed in a bag to bring with them. He doesn’t want to spend one second longer in this getup than he has to.

Kaidan’s mother is already awake with coffee brewing when they find their way into the kitchen.

“I don’t remember how you drink it,” she says, handing him a mug.

“He drinks it like tar,” Kaidan says, gesturing to Shepard. “I drink it like a normal human being.”

Shepard grumbles something in response, but takes Kaidan’s mug from his hands with a smirk as he passes by. His mother has another one ready and waiting.

“You didn’t have to get up this early,” Kaidan says to her, fishing in the pantry for something to eat. He hands a breakfast bar to Shepard, who shakes his head. 

“Wanted to make sure you had what you needed,” she replies.

Kaidan continues holding it out until Shepard gives in and takes it from him. It’s going to be one of those days. Shepard’s appetite is one of the first things to go when he’s under pressure, a terrible stress reaction for a biotic, and one that’s gotten him in trouble more than once.

“Sleep well?” his mother asks. 

They still haven’t found the missing pillow.

“Slept great.”

She smiles. “Good.”

Kaidan’s father joins them, fully dressed, but more bleary-eyed than he’d ever looked while on active duty. Maybe there are some habits he’s starting to let go of.

“Hey, you,” his mother says as he kisses her on the cheek. Shepard eyes Kaidan over the rim of his cup.

Kaidan’s father reaches past him to grab a mug from the cabinet and pours his own coffee. Four people in the kitchen is about three too many, so Kaidan edges free and makes his way to the more spacious balcony with Shepard in tow. The breakfast bar is nowhere to be seen, but Kaidan would bet his entire credit chit it went uneaten.

The sharp, morning breeze feels good. A handful of clouds hang heavy over the bay, but none of them hold rain. As beautiful as the bay is in the sun, it would almost be a shame to have a trip home and not see a good, hard rain. Not one of the things he’d expected to miss.

They drink their coffee in comfortable silence until Kaidan’s parents join them. For as cozy as the condo itself is, the balcony is surprisingly large and open. His mother takes a seat on the small outdoor loveseat she usually sits on to read while listening to the sounds of the bay.

“Ready for today?” his father asks, resting one arm on the railing. 

“As ready as we can be,” Shepard replies, wincing as he puts his weight wrong on the bad hip.

His father taps the cup with his fingers. “Look, I know neither of you want to hear this.”

“Marc,” his mother says sharply.

“Dad. We defied the Council. Stole a prototype warship. We’re looking at mutiny. They’ve got more than enough ammunition to court martial either of us. What you’re worried about…is way down on the list.”

His father exhales, offers a halfhearted smile. “Just be careful. I spent almost fifty years in the Alliance Navy. If you’re in their way, they’ll go through you. Remember that.”

If Kaidan had any illusions about how the Alliance really works, they’ve been shattered over the past few months. Anderson has felt like their only ally since the beginning. Even Hackett, who seems more invested in the truth than most, apparently sees them as just another chess piece to move around on the board.

Not that knowing how it works makes him any more confident. Kaidan tugs at the collar of his dress uniform. It already feels like a noose.

~

Tali shifts yet again in her chair, trying in vain to get comfortable. It’s as though the true purpose of every chair in this conference room is to ensure no one can relax enough to nod off during a meeting.

Conference room 3C is not much to look at. Clearly it’s not meant for _big_ conferences – it only seats eight – and it doesn’t have much in the way of amenities. No windows. The floor has a black and white crisscross pattern Tali finds rather mesmerizing if she looks at it too hard. Not a very inspiring place to prep for an inquest, which is set to begin in less than an hour with Liara’s testimony.

Liara has been pacing the length of the room since she got here, gaze frequently straying to the door waiting for Shepard to arrive.

Tali and Joker have been passing the time going over the finer points of the second _Forbidden Ops_ novel. There’s a lot more sex in it than the first one. She’s never seen Joker blush before today. The discovery that human skin can change color with their emotions is something she still takes delight in. 

The whole concept of sex is...intriguing, if a little weird. Alien lust for body parts is for the most part a foreign language, but she’s read enough - and watched enough - to appreciate the appeal of physical intimacy. The freedom to just shuck off a suit and share yourself with whoever you want without consequence is...alluring. If she could get over the anxiety of physical contact with someone else. Once she’d wondered aloud to Raan if quarians would gravitate back towards sex if they ever found a way to live with uncovered heads, rather than the tried and true self-stimulation and artificial insemination. Raan had changed the subject.

Finding someone to share her enthusiasm for romance novels has always been a struggle. Joker’s the best she’s got, and it turns out he needs a more extensive education on romance literary devices than she’d realized.

Although human novels have offered one or two that are new to her as well. 

Like _rain_.

Quarian novelists rarely write about rain. Turians don’t either. It occasionally turns up with the asari, but Tali wasn’t a particular fan of the writers who’d used it. She hasn’t ever really thought about rain being romantic. Being sopping wet in the middle of a profession of love hadn’t sounded particularly heart stopping, but that was _before_ she’d read about Astra and Kela finding each other in the middle of a downpour on a street in a city called Paris.

Whatever it feels like to be caught in a rainstorm, this book made it sound _beautiful_. She had immediately checked the weather projections to see if one might happen while she’s on Earth. It looks like her best bet is late in the week, the night of the gala. 

All those beautiful clothes in the rain. She holds in a contented sigh. 

“Is this really helpful right now?” Liara asks finally, coming to a stop in front of them.

Joker and Tali both look up.

After all he’s done for her, _not_ helping Shepard during the inquest hasn’t even crossed Tali’s mind. But this room feels like a tomb, and no one’s died. Astra and Kela are a happy place. 

But Liara is right…this isn’t exactly on topic.

“Well I sure as hell don’t want to talk about the inquest,” Joker replies.

“But if we’re bothering you, we can leave?” Tali offers.

Liara shakes her head. “Shepard should be here any moment. He wanted to talk to everyone before this started.”

“He must have been up early,” Joker says. “Went to find him for breakfast and he wasn’t in his quarters.”

“Perhaps he and Alenko wound up somewhere together,” Tali muses, attention back on the datapad. She doesn’t realize she’s said it out loud until she looks up and finds both Joker and Liara staring at her.

“Go on,” Liara says warily.

“Um. Sorry. I’ve been reading too many romances lately.”

Neither of them take their eyes off of her. She shifts in her chair.

“What?”

The conference room door slides open and Shepard strides through with Alenko right behind him. Liara shoots Tali a sidelong glance. Joker’s eyes look like they’re going to fall out of his head.

“Sorry I’m late,” Shepard says, brusque, down to business, leaving no room for anyone to raise a question or ask for an explanation. “Liara, before you go in there, there’s something I want you to know.”

His tone suggests they are not going to like what he has to say. As he explains Admiral Hackett’s suspicions, Tali finds she is very, very correct.

She’s glad she’s not going first.

~

Kaidan stands at the back of the courtroom next to Shepard, kneading his knuckles against his chin until his jaw aches. Joker and Tali sit in the back row, heads bent together as they whisper furiously. Occasionally Joker shoots daggers at a rear admiral sitting next to him, who keeps trying to shut him up.

The courtroom is bigger than Kaidan had expected, filled with more people than he’d been prepared for. It’s a hard look at the sheer size of the Alliance that the most everyone in the room has Admiral in their rank somewhere, and all of them share top security clearance. Even Shepard had gone through three security checkpoints just to get in the room. It’s very much an internal affair to boot. Tali and Liara are the only aliens present.

Liara’s poise, to her credit, is unflappable. She sits straight and tall at the front of the room, facing a panel of Admirals led by a sharp-eyed woman named Yetz. She has an unnerving ability to deliver her questions while standing perfectly still. It’s enough to make Kaidan squirm, though it doesn’t throw Liara in the slightest.

Shepard is the opposite of still. He shifts his weight back and forth from foot to foot, glower on his face that’s usually reserved for someone who’s about to get shot. Dahlia Dantius comes immediately to mind. 

They grill Liara for two hours about the protheans, her research, and reconciling published findings versus the new truth: that the race they’d assumed had built both the relays and the Citadel had merely discovered them, just like the current cycle. By adopting and using this technology, they’ve played right into the reaper’s hands, just as the protheans had. 

Kaidan has gotten so used to Liara’s skills in a fight he’s almost forgotten that she is a scholar first and foremost, and a damned good one. Kaidan had chanced upon her one evening in the mess peer reviewing a paper from a colleague, which had led to a long discussion about her work. Her list of achievements and accolades is longer than Kaidan’s arm. Merely calling her a prothean expert did her a disservice. Not to mention she’s got anywhere from twenty to seventy years on most everyone in the room. For her, this entire production probably isn’t much different than a dissertation defense.

She distills everything into something simple enough that they can understand, but with enough complexity to leave no doubt she knows what she’s talking about and they don’t.

Then they move on to the beacon, and how it had interfaced with Shepard’s brain. Any doubts Kaidan has about Hackett’s theory are erased. They’re fishing. 

Yetz clasps her hands behind her back. “So you’re saying the prothean technology was unable to correctly communicate this warning? Then how are you sure the dreadnaught Sovereign wasn’t just a lone entity?”

Liara fixes Yetz with a thin-lipped smile. “The technology is not compatible with human neural pathways, correct. It was designed to be adaptive, however anticipating what alien anatomy is going to look like and how it will function is a near impossible task. Shepard’s mind interpreted the message as best it could, but the incompatibility combined with the existing damage to the Eden Prime beacon resulted in jumbled, confusing images that did not present as intended.”

“How did they present, then?”

A brief whisper of dark energy sets Kaidan’s arm hairs on end. A small blue flicker plays across Shepard’s knuckles. He reaches out and touches Shepard’s wrist, just enough of a distraction to break the unconscious mnemonic. The flicker winks out as Shepard casts a mildly irritated look in his direction.

“That information is irrelevant to your inquest,” Liara replies without so much as a shift in her expression.

“Ms. T’Soni—”

“Doctor.”

“Dr. T’Soni, any information could be helpful to our efforts moving forward.”

“The manifestations of the Eden Prime beacon are between Commander Shepard and myself,” Liara says, sounding eerily like Benezia.

Kaidan’s never asked Shepard about the melds with Liara. Part of the strength of their friendship is knowing when to push and when to leave well enough alone. Yetz doesn’t have that rather valuable insight however, and keeps pressing. “Withholding that information could derail future efforts to—”

“May I finish?” Liara asks curtly.

The Admiral’s eyebrow twitches, but she gestures for Liara to continue. Shepard smirks.

“The cipher provided by the Thorian on Feros, combined with the information from an intact beacon on Virmire made it possible to piece key parts of the message together. We initially believed the beacon’s purpose was to warn us about the reapers by recounting their own fate. However the fully functioning beacon on Virmire also contained the location of the conduit, a backdoor onto the Citadel. The protheans designed it in their final days in hopes the next cycle might retain possession of it and prevent the reapers from using it to enter our galaxy.”

“And you were simply able to…extract this information from Commander Shepard’s brain.”

“It was shared willingly, yes.”

Shepard shifts in his chair.

“Is it coincidence or convenience that your mother had similar access to the only other being who successfully interfaced with these beacons before they were destroyed?” 

Kaidan senses Shepard taking a step forward before his foot gets off the floor and puts an arm in front of his chest. 

“She’s got this,” he murmurs.

“Were I allied with Saren and Benezia, I am certain that right now you would be fortifying your borders in a futile attempt to stop an army of reapers from entering your system.”

In the wake of the Admiral’s chagrined silence, she smiles an icy smile. “Next question?” 

Liara holds her head high once the questioning is finished, steps down and walks towards the exit. Her footsteps echo off the floor, the room largely silent except for a few murmurs. She pauses at the exit long enough to nod at her crewmates, who follow her out

A roar of sound spills into the courtroom as the doors open. Outside, the hallways swarm with activity, from curious staff to news reporters desperate to get any details of what’s happening behind closed doors. Joker’s balance bobbles as another reporter collides with him. Kaidan steadies him with one hand and throws an arm out to create a buffer and give him some room. Tali leads the way back to the conference room. Once they’re safely inside Kaidan seals the door behind them.

“You’re right,” Joker says, taking a seat and rubbing his knee with a grimace. “That was bullshit. They’re definitely looking for ammo.”

“I’m next,” Tali says, her usual cheer glaringly absent. She flops down in the chair next to Joker. “Though I suppose if I can do half as well as Liara did up there, it should turn out all right.”

“You don’t owe the Alliance anything,” Shepard informs her, then looks at Liara. “Neither of you do. Say the word and I’ll put you on the first shuttle off this planet. There’s nothing they can do about it.”

“I think we can handle it,” Liara says with a smile. “Though I appreciate the concern.”

Shepard leans against the table, taking weight off his left leg. Were it not for the bad hip Kaidan is sure he’d be pacing. “Garrus and Wrex were lucky. They got off the ship while the getting was good.”

“Can we not talk about work for a few minutes?” Joker asks. “My head’s about to explode.”

“Oh! Yes!” Tali exclaims. “Shepard, where were you last night? Er. This morning? Joker couldn’t find you.”

Kaidan’s stomach drops. Shepard merely raises an eyebrow. “What does that matter?”

Joker sits up straighter. “Because Tali had a weird theory, and you’re deflecting the question, so suddenly I’m really interested to know if she’s right.”

Kaidan puts a hand to his face and wanders to the far side of the table, trying to ignore his rising heart rate. Shepard, to his credit, remains unfazed. “Stayed off base last night.”

Joker’s eyes widen, head turning to find Kaidan. “Tell me you two didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Liara demands.

Tali clasps her hands and spins a little in her chair. “You went home with Kaidan, didn’t you? You went _along_ with it, didn’t you?!”

Liara looks back and forth between them, arms folded in front of her chest. “Along with _what?”_

“It’s a very long story,” Kaidan says.

“Is it though?” Joker asks.

“Joker,” Shepard warns.

“They’re pretending to date,” Joker says, daring either of them to deny it.

Liara glances sharply at Shepard. “Is this true?”

“Tell me everything,” Tali demands.

“Yeah, Kaidan,” Joker echoes, dramatically swiveling around in his chair. “Tell us _everything_.”

“Joker—” Kaidan starts.

“Was there hand holding? Oooh, or canoodling. I bet Shepard’s a great canoodler.”

Kaidan’s face is on fire. Shepard appears nonplussed, aside from some wary irritation. It’s disappointing somehow. Not that it should be. After all, Shepard isn’t the one who’d confessed his feelings in the mess at 0200 while Joker stared at him like a deer in headlights. 

Liara walks toward Shepard and leans in, voice low. “Can we talk?”

Shepard casts his eyes to the ceiling before nodding and following her out of the room. The moment the door closes behind them, both Tali and Joker give Kaidan their full attention.

He throws his hands in the air and walks back towards them, but doesn’t take a seat. “Yes, okay? Yes. We’re playing along.”

“Why would you do this to yourself?” Joker asks.

“Wait, why _wouldn’t_ you?” Tali says, confused. “I thought you wanted to be in a relationship with Shepard.”

“Why...would you think that?” Kaidan asks warily, refraining from casting a murderous look in Joker’s direction.

She tilts her head, puzzled. “Everyone talks about it.”

“ _Everyone_?”

“Everyone in Engineering, at least,” she says with a shrug.

Joker dissolves into laughter. “Tali, you are my favorite person in the entire galaxy right now.”

“I can’t believe this,” Kaidan says under his breath.

Joker gives him an incredulous look. “Can’t believe it? Kaidan, you _did_ it.” 

“Keelah, this is better than fiction.” Tali straightens up in her chair like she’s been struck by lightning. “The gala. You’re going to the gala together. I mean, _together,_ together. Right?”

“I don’t know,” Kaidan says warily. “That’s…complicated. For reasons even my parents are aware of.”

“For reasons they _aren’t_ aware of, too,” Joker mutters.

“Please don’t make it worse,” Kaidan pleads.

“No need. You’re doing just fine on your own.”

Tali nudges Joker with her elbow. “Joker. It’s supposed to rain the night of the gala.” 

“So?” Joker asks with an odd look. 

“ _Paris._ ”

Kaidan looks warily back and forth between them. 

Tali gets to her feet. “Don’t worry,” she assures him. “I’m here to help.”

~

Liara takes Shepard all the way to the ground floor of the building, away from the bustle of the courtroom. By sheer luck she finds a small courtyard off the main compound miraculously free of people. With the sun lurking behind a cloud it’s noticeably cooler than it had been the day before. Liara prefers it to the balding glare from yesterday. Earth’s sun is too bright.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Shepard asks. He’s deflecting, and she knows it, but his concern is real.

“I am fine, Shepard. Like it or not, I am my mother’s daughter. I can handle their scrutiny. I am, however, concerned about you.”

He waves his hand. “It’s not going to be anything I haven’t dealt with before. Believe me, Torfan taught me a lot about how to take a political ass kicking.”

“That is not what I was referring to,” she says gently.

“I know.”

He paces the small courtyard with an uneven gait. This hidden space seems like such a careless afterthought. A bench. A planter with some form of greenery. Just a halfhearted respite from the hustle of Alliance command.

She puts a hand on his arm as he passes by, kindly but firmly pulling him to a stop.

“Do you not feel this is an unnecessary complication?”

“The reapers have posed a number of unnecessary complications,” Shepard points out.

“Then why add this one?”

“Liara—”

“I _worry_ about you.”

He gazes at her for a long time before giving in with a sigh. “It’s just a nightmare.” 

“It is _not_ just a nightmare,” she corrects him, though she shudders at the reminder of just how nightmarish the visions are. “It’s a message from a long dead alien race that is incompatible with your neurology. Now that we know the message, you have time to explore what the rest of it means to _you_.”

“It doesn’t mean _anything_ to me.” He brushes her off with a wave of her arm. “It’s just death and blood. The less I have to think about it the better.”

If the protheans’ wish had been to make their message impossible to ignore, they had succeeded. What the beacon had done to Shepard, what it is _still_ doing to Shepard, is unforgivable. Even the remnants of it she still carries from their meld have yielded more than a few short nights. She wonders how he sleeps at all. 

But beyond the sheer horror of the beacon’s warning about the reapers was how coldly and callously it had found Shepard’s own weaknesses and used them against him. One in particular he hadn’t known, and _still_ doesn’t know, that he has.

“I know what you saw in there,” she says, quiet but firm. “And so do you.” 

He gestures helplessly. “The beacon got full access to everything in my skull.”

“All the more reason to explore why it chose-”

He holds up a hand, and there’s steel in it. Full stop. Hard to port. Always. When it comes to Alenko, when it comes to the beacon, he shuts down every time she tries to understand why he so staunchly resists what she sees so clearly.

“Liara, Kaidan’s served with me for five years. I don’t have family-” 

“What about your mother? The beacon rarely uses her-”

Shepard’s scowl stops her in mid sentence. “I almost died saving the galaxy, and this morning she finally sent me a message that basically amounted to ‘Nice work, job well done.’ You of all people should understand how I feel about my mother. If the beacon wanted to torment me with loved ones, it would have picked my father.”

 _But it didn’t,_ she wants to scream. _It chose someone else! How am I the only one who understands why?_

There is no way to circumvent the intimacy of the melds. It’s a blending of minds, thoughts, feelings, a willingness to be vulnerable with someone else in ways that humans seem averse to. Shepard in particular. But he’d needed her help to manage the enormous psychological load of the beacon, and she had given it.

Never, to anyone, has she divulged what she had seen during their melds. Even with Shepard there is a firmly drawn line she must not cross. Anything beyond the protheans’ warning, the conduit and its whereabouts, is off limits. She respects his wishes. 

However, Kaidan is so closely tied to those visions that the line blurs. In terrible ways. 

She isn’t sure how he copes with the weight of the beacon. Even without it, Shepard’s mind is such an overpowering blend of strength and chaos, constantly fraying at the edges but somehow never quite giving way. Of course, to Shepard, chaos is more of an art form. The closer he is to catastrophe, the more he thrives. But it is a dangerous way to live.

And a dangerous way to love. 

“I fear you underestimate how much Kaidan means to you,” she says.

Shepard’s expression softens a little, until he looks more tired than anything else. To her surprise, instead of resuming his pacing he sits down on a bench. 

“I doubt that.”

Curious, she takes a seat beside him. 

“Have I ever told you how I met him?” Shepard asks.

She shakes her head. She had seen many flashes of memory during their melds. But most were shapeless, without context, drowned out by the beacon.

He huffs and stares out across the courtyard, gaze unfocused. “After Torfan, the Alliance benched me for a few months. Inquest. Psych evals. They weren’t in a hurry to put me back on active duty. Anderson finally pulled enough strings to get me on the ‘ _Yang._ They thought Captain Oseguera would be a good gauge of whether I was still useful. She was tough but fair. Would go to the mat for you if you earned her respect.”

He sighs. “Guess they were right to be worried. The morning I was supposed to report for duty I had a panic attack on the way to the docking bay.” 

Ice pricks the base of her spine. “You were terrified.” She _remembers_. Not the details. But the bitter taste in the back of his throat, the race of his heart, the sweat on his palms, are still part of her. Goddess, the beacon had used it all against him.

He nods. “Instead of the ship I ended up in a bar. To this day I couldn’t tell you how I got there if my life depended on it.”

“And Kaidan?”

“Kaidan was going to be on my marine detail. When I didn’t report for duty, he drew the short straw and landed the job of tracking me down.”

He pauses, and turns his head to her. “Ever since Torfan, any time I meet someone there’s always this moment. A quickscan where they look for the monster and judge whether I should be hated, feared or mistrusted. Sometimes it’s useful. Other times it’s fucking exhausting to keep selling your own humanity over and over. But with Kaidan, it wasn’t like that. He walked right up to my table, sat down, and asked what was on the menu for breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” she asks in confusion. 

“Yeah, that was my reaction, too. Next thing you know we were in some diner by the docking ring and I had a stack of pancakes sitting in front of me. I was AWOL, he was tasked with bringing me in, and yet for an hour we were just two normal people having breakfast.” He sighs. It’s a heavy sound. “First time in a long time I just felt...human.”

“That is...meaningful.”

He steeples his fingers, elbows propped on his knees. “He’s always sticks with me. Even when he has every reason not to.”

“I am not aware you have ever given him such a reason, Shepard.” 

“Yeah, well. You weren’t on Sharjila.” 

Her brow creases. “I was. The asari slaver.”

Shepard shakes his head, expression dark. “That was not the first time I went after her on Sharjila.”

Unease stirs in her chest. The takedown of Dahlia Dantius had been early in her tenure on the _Normandy,_ but she clearly remembers the tension between Shepard and Alenko throughout the mission. It had felt very...private. Garrus had said the same thing afterward. 

“Years ago on the _Myeongyang_ we had intel she had a foothold there, possibly with human captives. The Alliance sent us to flush her out. We had her dead to rights, and then she offered to let her hostages go. The slaves in exchange for her walking out the door and getting away. If we didn’t take the deal, she swore she’d blow the airlock on the hostages.”

Goddess. She doesn’t want to know. “What did you do?”

“I told her to fuck off. She kept her word. Sharjila is 39 atmospheres.” He stares out at nothing. “It was…gruesome. The worst part was, she was better than I gave her credit for and got away from me anyway. Led us straight into a thresher maw. I almost died. Kaidan saved my life.

“I sacrificed hostages to get to her, because I thought it would save more lives if I put her down. Instead they all died horrible deaths for nothing.” Shepard falls silent, resting his chin in his hands. “Kaidan was horrified. First time he thought he’d been wrong, and I was exactly the butcher everyone told him I was.”

He lowers his gaze, wipes his forehead. She catches sight of his eyes, bright with grief, and more than a little self-loathing. When he speaks again the words only come with effort. “Worst part is I’d never felt like a monster until that moment, when he looked at me like everyone else.”

Her heart aches. “But he stayed with you.”

“I expected him to ask for a transfer. Had the paperwork ready to send off to the Captain. Four days went by and he didn’t say a word to me. And then you know what that bastard did?”

She shakes her head. 

“He made fucking pancakes. Found him after midnight in the mess. He had a plate ready for me, because he knew I wasn’t sleeping.”

A wisp of a smile crosses her face. That sounded like a very Kaidan thing to do. “Then perhaps you underestimate what you mean to him.”

Shepard leans back on the bench and turns his face into the breeze. “Maybe. But if you’re asking whether he thinks of me as more than a friend, the answer is no.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “And what makes you say that?”

“Virmire.” He spits the word out like a bullet and gets back to his feet, resuming a slow pace. 

Liara chews her lip. Virmire is a landmine she has no wish to tread upon.

“If he thought-” Shepard stops. Swallows. “If he thought I abandoned Ashley Williams because of him...I know what that would do to him.”

 _Is that it?_ she wonders. Does he love Kaidan so deeply that he somehow believes _refusing_ to love him is his only choice? 

“That is precisely why a faux romance seems a poor decision,” Liara says gently.

He runs a hand over his close-shaved head, mouth working as if he’s trying to rid himself of a bad aftertaste. She waits, giving him space to compose his thoughts. 

“Sometimes I’m selfish,” he says at last. 

She frowns. “Selfish?” Shepard is perhaps the most selfless individual she has ever met. Willing to light himself on fire to keep the galaxy warm. 

“They made me a Spectre because I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” he says. “Spend whatever lives need spending to win. That’s what they want from me. The Council. The Alliance. They want someone who’ll go down in flames so they don’t have to. That’s it. That’s the job. And sending over two hundred and fifty people to their deaths on Torfan told them I could do it.”

Liara says nothing. 

“They look for the kind of person who sees sacrificing these lives over here to save those lives over there as nothing more than a math problem.” When he finally looks at her, the pain in his eyes takes her breath away. “Sound like anyone else we know?”

“Saren,” she murmurs.

He nods. “When do you think he bought into what Sovereign was selling him? When do you think he decided offering billions of people up for slaughter was somehow the greater good?”

Shepard stops pacing, sits back down on the lonely bench and looks at his hands.

“I bet it was slow,” he says. “You make one decision. Sacrifice a few people here. A few more there. Each time you do it makes the next time a little easier. I should know. I’ve done my fair share.”

A stiff breeze wafts through the courtyard. 

“I could become that. I could look in the mirror one day and see Saren looking back at me.”

“Shepard…”

“Kaidan _grounds_ me, Liara.”

She falls silent. 

“I was going to let the Council die. What’s ten thousand lives compared to millions, billions if Sovereign succeeded? But I didn’t. Because he stood up for them. The greater good isn’t always about numbers. Sometimes it’s just about doing what’s _right._ Every time I spend a life, he reminds me what it really means, and who pays the consequences. Sometimes I hate him for it.

“You’re right,” he concedes. “I’m making things more complicated. Call it weakness. It probably is. But after spending the week fighting another war on my own, defending everything we’ve done, pleading with people who don’t want to listen, projecting nightmare scenarios where we all die…being around him is a hell of a lot better than sitting in some sterile quarters, staring at a mirror looking for Saren.”

She thinks back to yesterday, and the dress uniform hanging over the mirror in his quarters. Goddess. She puts her hand over his. 

“He grounds me,” Shepard repeats, almost to himself. “When I’m around Kaidan, I remember who I am. And why that’s important.”

Liara offers a wan smile. “Then do as you will. Just be careful, Shepard.”

He puts his other hand on top of hers. “I always am.”

“ _That_ , my friend, is a lie.”

Kaidan is so much more than Shepard thinks he is. Although perhaps he is even more than she first believed as well. 

One day, she hopes he will let himself see it. But for now, she has little choice but to let it go. 


	5. Outnumbered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali ponders the finer points of human relationships. Liara discovers martinis. Joker will _not_ discuss sex scenes, and Kaidan ends up taking Tali's advice. Shepard is, well. Shepard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the amazing feedback you've given me so far! I'm beside myself over the things people have noticed, liked, asked for more of. I am so excited to share this chapter. It's long, but hope you enjoy it!!

_Don't tell me this is all for nothing_   
_I can only tell you one thing_   
_On the nights you feel outnumbered_   
_Baby, I'll be out there somewhere_

[ x ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4Ta3PhWmY50ZLU1uhKFKPE?si=kuy2ylGyQsmzKRG4lvNpXw)

**Outnumbered**

Lunch gets delivered right to the conference room, but neither Shepard nor Liara show. 

_Damnit,_ Kaidan thinks. That will make two meals Shepard’s skipped. Sure, they’re not walking into a hot zone, but Shepard passing out on the floor in front of a fleet of admirals isn’t exactly the look they’re going for. 

No part of their lunch is portable, so Kaidan goes scouting for a vending machine and is nearly late for Tali’s testimony. He pockets the energy bar he’d gone in search for as he enters the courtroom and joins Liara and Joker at the back. Standing room only. This time Joker has dragged a chair to the back wall so he can sit beside his crewmates. Liara stands on the other side of him, hands clasped in front of her, attention trained on Tali.

Shepard slips through the main doors just before Tali states her name for the record and finds an empty space next to Kaidan. He leans his back against the wall and props his left foot. Kaidan gives him a questioning look, but he merely shakes his head.

As expected, Tali’s testimony focuses almost entirely on the geth. Their networking abilities. How they can be interfered with. Why they may have allied with Saren. What their intentions might be towards the organic races.

Yetz has been replaced with Admiral Sonterra, who has more in common with a brick wall than he does a person. Kaidan frowns. If they wanted to find someone who would fluster Tali they’ve picked the right guy. He speaks in monotone, without a spark of warmth anywhere to be found, and has little to no reaction to anything she says. Perhaps because she’s lived her whole life with her face hidden by her suit, Kaidan has noticed Tali is hyper aware of non-facial body language and verbal cues. Which Sonterra utterly lacks.

She starts out nervous. Shifting knees, kneading hands. She’d done it frequently her first few weeks on the _Normandy_ . Kaidan remembers a late-night conversation in the engine room when he’d asked for help with one of his ECM mines. He’d been surprised to hear her confess she’d never expected to be taken seriously outside of the flotilla. _I’m quarian_ , she’d said. _No one takes quarians seriously._

The Alliance is taking this one seriously.

She warms up as the questioning goes on. Her posture straightens. Instead of fidgeting fingers, she uses her hands to walk her audience through the complexities of a geth gestalt. Kaidan’s proud of her.

But then it takes a different turn. Admiral Sonterra begins asking about geth ships. If they have ever been known to build dreadnaughts. If they have ever used directed energy weapons.

She answers each question in as much detail as they have patience for. Leave it to Tali to actually have so much to say that Sonterra interrupts her in order to move on. But as the questioning progresses, she seems as perplexed as Kaidan is about their line of questions.

“Do you believe that the geth and Saren shared technology?” Sonterra asks.

“The technology the geth used to manufacture husks is vastly different than anything they have been known to use in the past, but our information is three hundred years out of date,” she says slowly. “Despite the fact the geth are AI, their origins were quarian. Therefore most of their technology has its roots in _our_ technology. While they are clearly capable of evolving in new directions, the husks were unlike anything I have ever seen. We haven’t been able to determine how it works. Therefore, my hypothesis is that its origin lies with the reapers, not the geth.”

“And you would consider yourself to be a geth expert.”

She shrugs. “No one else has had the chance to study them up close and observe their evolution in the past three centuries. The _Normandy_ encountered a number of geth that are helping us fill the gaps and see how far they’ve come since the war.”

Sonterra continues the questions for nearly another hour, always straying back to the relationship between Saren, the geth and Sovereign.

Not Sovereign, Kaidan observes. They always refer to it as Saren’s dreadnought.

A shiver in the local gravity well ripples across his skin. He and Liara both turn towards Shepard. No actual dark energy ghosting his fingers this time. He’s just digging at it, like someone might chew a pen cap.

When the session finally ends Kaidan looks for Shepard, but he disappears from the room without a word.

~

Joker finds a different bar for them this time. It’s a few floors down from the courtroom and the décor doesn’t look nearly as expensive as the one from last night. Most of the patrons wear simple fatigues, not dress uniforms. That includes Joker, who had ditched his the moment the proceedings ended.

 _Hmm_ , Tali thinks. This place isn’t seedy enough for a forbidden rendezvous, not glamorous enough for a high power couple Astra and Kela. Not to mention the dextro selections leave a lot to be desired. One bottle of turian brandy, and the bartender gives Tali a dirty look when she asks for it.

“She saved us from the reapers, give her a break,” Joker snaps. He keeps up the glare until the drink is poured. “Geez, will anyone ever get over Shanxi? I’d pay real credits right now to be sitting next to Garrus and see how long their chickenshit bravado lasts.”

Tali’s not entirely certain, but she thinks she’s just been defended. Sometimes with Joker it’s hard to tell.

The mention of Garrus stirs up a pang of loneliness. Saying goodbye to him on the Citadel had almost been worse than leaving the Flotilla. She hadn’t expected something as trivial as sharing the same amino acid chirality to be so meaningful, but having someone to feel awkward with when it came to requesting food supplies and having to vet everything she ate had eased a lot of the loneliness she’d felt after coming on board.

She wonders how he’s doing.

“What kind of beer is that?” she asks as the surly bartender hands Joker a fresh glass.

“Canadian fucking lager,” Joker says. “Same as last night. Say what you will, the Canadians make a good beer. Kaidan has to be in heaven right now. In more ways than one.”

Tali nearly chokes on the first sip of her beverage. She readjusts the straw hooked into her suit.

“I don’t find it amusing,” Liara says as she joins them.

“Buzzkill,” Joker replies. He pulls his crutch off of the trio of seats to his left, and she sits at the one next to him.

“I find their predicament romantic,” Tali says, making another attempt to actually get some brandy into her mouth.

Liara searches the bar for a menu but doesn’t find one. “What drink do you recommend?”

Joker eyes her critically. “You strike me as the martini type.” He signals the bartender again. “Don’t worry, this guy loves me.”

Judging by the way the bartender is staring at Liara, Joker has nothing to do with the sudden improvement in their service. He brings the martini, served in an ornate glass, complete with some edible object on a stick that makes it look even more elegant. A quick look around the bar suggests Liara’s getting special treatment with that glass. She neither notices nor comments, much to the bartender’s disappointment. Tali tries to summon some pity for him but fails. One bottle of turian brandy in the whole place. _Really_.

Liara sips the martini, and makes a small sound of approval. Joker raises his glass in a toast. Liara clinks his glass, then Tali’s.

“Who wants to take bets on whether they have to share a bed?” Joker asks.

Tali raises a hand. She taught him about that trope.

“Why would they choose to do this?” Liara wonders.

Joker snorts. “I love how the fate of the universe hangs in the balance and all we care about is how our senior officers who are in love with each other are pretending to be in love with each other, because neither of them will admit they’re in love with each other.”

Liara glances at him sharply. “What do you know about it?”

“What do you mean?” Joker asks, leaning back, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do _you_ know about it?”

Tali leans forward so she can see them both and tries to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “Any idiot knows about it.”

Well, maybe not _any_ idiot. She’s put a lot of thought into it. But she’s also gotten input from a _lot_ of people, and they all keep coming to the same conclusion. That has to count for something.

Tali had assumed Kaidan and Shepard were romantically involved almost immediately after boarding the ship. They showed all the signs. They have a private comm frequency. Keep the same odd hours. They have a language borne out of shared history that no one else understands. They compromise their personal space around each other. Shepard’s laugh is different when Kaidan is around. And Kaidan, for his part, always seems to be where Shepard is. The only thing missing is a favor token sticking out of a suit pocket.

It was only after a rather unfortunate comment during a poker game nearly resulted in Kaidan choking to death that it had dawned on her Shepard and Kaidan were not _quarian_. The signs with humans were different. Supposedly. 

Physical intimacy is such a staple for other species. The books she reads. The vids she watches. But it’s not until joining the _Normandy_ and accidentally walking in on Caroline Grenado and Addison Chase stealing a few private moments in a corner of the cargo bay that she’d grasped physical contact isn’t just a fictional romance device. It’s something _real_. And something she will never have. At least, not without paying a high price.

The vids make it look nice, but not _that_ nice. The idea of lying around naked sounds exhilarating in theory. In practice it would be more of an anxiety nightmare. She’ll settle for a linked suit environment and a nice nerve stim program.

But humans sure seem to like it. Problem is, she’s never seen any evidence that Shepard and Kaidan’s intimacy is physical.

“Maybe that’s not what they’re into,” Garrus had suggested when she’d finally looked for (what turned out to be her first) second opinion. “Maybe they’re more like quarians.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?” she’d asked.

“I think you’re _thinking_ about it too much,” he’d replied. “But no, I don’t think you’re crazy. Kaidan gets a migraine and gets to sleep it off in Shepard’s quarters. I get rachni burns and I have to sleep it off in the med bay with a krogan who doesn’t understand hospital gowns. Sounds like preferential treatment to me.”

“They were _rachni_ burns, Garrus. Of course you had to stay in the medbay.”

He’d laughed with his mandibles. She’d learned so much about turian mannerisms from Garrus. His mandibles say almost as much as his subvocals do.

She misses Garrus.

On a ship full of humans she’d gotten quite the crash course in nonverbal communication. Some things weren’t too difficult to pick up, like the way Grenado twists her hair around her finger when she’s distracted. Or the fact that Ashley would only let someone touch her gun if she trusted them. 

But she’ll never master their faces. They’re so _expressive._ Their eyes and lips do so many things that Tali has given up trying to figure out what it all means. Her only comfort is that humans don’t seem to know what they mean half the time, either.

If Garrus was right, and their attraction was less _physical_ and more _quarian,_ she merely had to look for the human signs of a quarian relationship. And _that_ had yielded more clues.

Such as, Kaidan’s expression is different when he looks at Shepard versus other humans. Faces are so _vexing_ it’s hard to really tell what changes, but it’s _different._ And he stares at Shepard when he thinks no one is looking. After returning from Feros covered in slime, Shepard had chucked his undershirt along with his armor in the cargo bay before heading to the showers and Kaidan had nearly dropped his helmet.

Hm. So maybe there is some physical desire?

Shepard is more subtle. She has to be quicker to spot clues. Such as when she figured out that Shepard looks for any excuse he can find to give Kaidan information in person that could easily be sent through a message, or handed off by a junior officer. And if there’s a seat open next to Kaidan at one of the tables in the mess, Shepard always sits in it. 

“Is Kaidan an attractive human?” she’d asked Ashley once.

“Well, attraction isn’t exactly universal with humans,” she replied. Ashley had been one of the only people on the _Normandy_ who didn’t get flustered when she asked these kinds of questions. “But if you can find me someone on the ship who hasn’t wondered what he’s like in bed you can have my credit chit.”

“Would _you_ be in a romantic relationship with him?”

“Nah. Don’t have those kinds of feelings for him.” Then she’d grinned. “But looking like that? And a biotic? _And_ the quiet type? I have _definitely_ wondered what he’s like in bed.”

That had led to some research on the human correlation between “quiet types” and physical intimacy, which had given her a whole new set of questions. But that was less important than the big conclusion she had drawn from the conversation. Humans _could_ separate romantic and physical relationships. Most of the time they appear to go together. But perhaps…not always. How interesting.

She misses Ashley. 

After Virmire, Tali hadn’t needed a lot of experience reading faces to understand Shepard’s while he waited for Kaidan to come out of anesthesia. None of them had slept for forty-eight hours at that point, but Shepard wouldn’t close his eyes until Kaidan had opened his. Exhaustion does things to human eyes. Makes it harder to hide things.

Maybe that explained the thing with the hair. She’d walked into the med bay to check on them and give Shepard her report while Kaidan was still out. She had only caught a glimpse before Shepard spotted her and came to attention, but she knows, she’s _sure_ , that when she’d walked in, Shepard had his fingers in Kaidan’s hair.

And _that,_ she _knows,_ is a human sign of romance. Humans are obsessed with hair. In every book she’s ever read with a human love interest, at some point their lover smooths back strands of hair. Astra runs her fingers through Kela’s long, black hair _every_ time they reunite after being separated. And in tender moments. Oh, and when they’re sad. Or happy, really. Keelah, she does it when they wake up and say good morning. It happens _all the time._

So if they _are_ attracted to each other, either romantically, physically or both, why don’t they act on it?

She got a possible answer after discovering Grenado and Felawa had a bet going over who would cave first – Shepard or Kaidan. That’s when Tali learned about Alliance regulations about coupling within a unit. Quarians worried a lot less about such entanglements. In the Flotilla they were too hard to avoid.

But clearly it still _happened_ in the Alliance. She’s pretty sure Grenado and Chase’s physical encounter had not been a one-time thing. 

“What do you think is holding them back?” Tali muses out loud to Joker and Liara.

“Gee, I wonder,” Joker says with a roll of his eyes. “Kaidan leaks duty and honor out his ass. Fraternizing with his CO has got to be top five on his list of deadliest sins.”

“Liara, what do you think?” Tali asks.

Liara takes another sip of her drink in response. 

“She knows something,” Joker says, words muffled by his glass.

“You do?” Tali asks her.

“I do _not_ ,” Liara protests.

“She’s lying.” Joker leans back and directs a scowl behind Liara’s back at a lieutenant poised to take the seat next to her. “Hey. We’re saving that.” The lieutenant mutters, but finds another place to sit.

Liara fixes Joker with a steely look that reminds Tali a little too much of Benezia.

She’s _definitely_ lying. Of course...it makes sense. Tali doesn’t know much about asari melds, but Liara’s testimony that morning had all but confirmed she certainly knows more about Shepard’s thoughts than anyone else sitting at this bar.

Tali taps her faceplate, then looks past Joker to Liara. “Well, if you won’t say, the least you can do is help Joker and I get them to confess to each other.”

Joker whips his head from Liara back to Tali. “Hey, when did you and I become a team on this?”

“We’ve always been a team, Joker,” she informs him, taking another drink. The brandy isn’t that bad, if she’s being honest.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to force them into doing something they are unwilling to do on their own,” Liara says, eyeing the ornate green thing impaled on a stick floating in her glass. 

“Liara,” Joker says, “They’re _pretending_ to date each other. For perhaps the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard. They aren’t unwilling. They’re just stubborn.” He signals the bartender again, pointing to his half empty beer and Liara’s half-empty glass. The bartender immediately starts making a fresh martini. He’s slower on the beer. 

“We’re going to a _gala_ ,” Tali says, with a wave of her arm. The fact that she’s the only one of them who sees the possibilities is _maddening_.

“So you think this is an Astra and Kela kind of situation,” Joker says. “Liara, it’s an olive. You eat it.”

Liara sniffs the round, sickly-green colored, hmm, maybe it’s a fruit, experimentally before tasting it. When the next drink arrives she starts with the olive.

“Could you imagine what would happen if we got them to dance?” Tali asks. Pleads, really.

“Broken toes?” Joker suggests.

Tali sighs. “Okay, we need to get to chapter twelve of the next book. You’ll see what I mean.”

Liara’s gone through two martinis by the time Kaidan finally joins them at the bar. He takes the open seat next to Liara that Joker has vehemently defended. Just like Joker, Kaidan has also exchanged his dress uniform for regular fatigues. It appears to be a universal opinion that Alliance formal uniforms are, to quote Joker, ‘the worst.’

Joker pushes his fresh beer past Liara towards Kaidan as he sits down, echoing his similar gesture the night before. Given how willing he was earlier to let Kaidan suffer his own consequences, it’s an unexpected token of camaraderie. Tali wonders if it has to do with being a newly minted hero of humanity. Or perhaps it’s being home. Maybe, just maybe, he likes his crewmates more than he cares to admit.

“Thanks,” Kaidan says, taking a sip of the beer. He closes his eyes in deep satisfaction. “That doesn’t get old.”

Joker orders another round for all of them, including Liara.

“What is that?” Tali asks, pointing to the bowl the bartender places in front of them. Or, more accurately, in front of Liara.

“Peanuts,” Joker replies, reaching into the bowl. He cracks the shell, pulls out a nut and tosses it into the air.

“Anyone know where Shepard is?” Kaidan asks.

“Figured _you_ would know better than we would,” Tali says.

“Don’t start.”

“Heard him say something about, and these are his words, ‘a fucking nightmare session with people I’m not allowed to shoot,’” Joker says helpfully.

Liara scrutinizes the peanuts before picking one up and rolling it in her fingers.

“It doesn’t bite,” Joker informs her.

Tali clears her throat to get Kaidan’s attention.

He looks down the bar at her and holds a hand up. “Don’t. Don’t help. I’ve got this. It’s not some big…thing. Really.”

“How do you eat this?” Liara asks.

“Crack it open like this.” Joker picks one up and demonstrates.

“I’m on your side,” Tali insists. “I want this to work out.”

Kaidan scowls. “There is _nothing_ to work out.”

“Hear that, Tali?” Joker says with a knowing smirk. “There’s nothing to work out.”

 _How_ are they this naïve, really?

“It’s getting cold,” Tali says, ignoring them both. At their confused looks, she sighs in exasperation. “He’s not wearing a jacket, Kaidan, you should give him your jacket.”

Liara taps the peanut against the bar with a frown.

“No, between your fingers,” Joker tells her. “Just pinch it.”

Kaidan looks down at his jacket, black leather, striped with Alliance blue, then back towards Tali. “It’s seven degrees outside. It’s not cold.”

“I did it!” Liara exclaims, holding up the now-cracked shell. The nut inside slips through her fingers and falls to the floor. “Blast,” she mutters.

“Try again,” Joker says, handing her another one.

Tali makes a frustrated sound in her throat. “Who cares? It will be _romantic.”_

“Can we please talk about anything else?” Kaidan begs.

Liara hands Kaidan a peanut. He takes it with a raised eyebrow.

“She likes martinis,” Joker explains.

“Tali,” Kaidan asks. “What did you think about the questions they asked you today?”

“I think they were oddly obsessed with the geth’s naval capabilities,” she says, giving in and letting him change the subject.

“Yeah, me too.”

She shrugs and sips more of her brandy. It’s too bad she can’t try the peanuts.

They sit around the bar for over an hour. It’s good to hear them laugh. Keelah, it’s good to laugh _herself_ . Ever since Ilos, no, ever since _Virmire_ , there’s been so little laughter.

When she left the Flotilla, she’d never imagined she would find another crew that felt like family. But when Shepard had offered to take her back home, or at the very least charter her a ride, she’d turned him down.

She wanted to _stay_.

She’ll have to go back. Eventually. But she’s not ready. Not yet. And it’s because of nights like this one.

Kaidan finishes his latest beer and sets the empty glass on the table. Joker starts to order another one but Kaidan holds a hand up to stop him. “I need to go find Shepard.”

“What a surprise,” Joker says.

“While I appreciate everyone’s interest in my love life—”

Joker snorts.

“—stay out of it. Please.”

Liara takes another sip of her martini as Kaidan takes his leave.

Tali tilts her head. “Joker’s right. You do know something.”

She protests, but it’s about as convincing as Garrus’ attempts to bluff at the poker table.

“Hm.” Joker turns his head towards Tali with narrowed eyes. “How many martinis do you think it’ll take?”

“We could find out?”

“That’s it, I’m going back to my quarters,” Liara informs them. She gets to her feet.

Both Joker and Tali sigh in disappointment.

She glares at them both. Glances at the bowl of peanuts. Joker gestures at it. With a triumphant smile she sweeps it off the table and takes it with her when she leaves.

~

It’s dark outside and colder than seven degrees when Kaidan finally finds Shepard pacing in some forgotten courtyard on the first floor that’s little more than a lightwell between buildings. The unseasonably warm weather has shifted abruptly to unseasonably cold, especially with the damp nip in the air. The overhanging clouds stubbornly hold on to the rain.

“Hey,” Kaidan says. “There you are.”

Shepard comes to a halt, grimacing. One hand braces his hip. “Hey.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Shepard’s also ditched the dress blues in favor of fatigues. Short sleeves.

Shepard rubs a bare arm with his hand. “Spent the last two hours in that damned place with a team of analysts projecting worst case scenarios. I’m good out here. Not that it’s any real surprise, by the way, but we’re fucked whenever the reapers show up.”

Kaidan’s smile fades. There’s a desperate pinch at the corner of Shepard’s eyes and he’s unusually pale. His feet have stopped moving, but his body still shifts with nervous, strung out energy. Despite the chilly air, there’s a sheen of sweat on his brow.

Damnit.

When the hell did he eat last, if he’s eaten at all today? Even those idle intrusions into the gravity well have a cost, and Shepard’s notorious for not paying up on time.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Shepard scowls. “Kaidan, I said—”

“If you were wearing combat armor your blood sugar flag would be screaming right now,” Kaidan informs him. “We’re going home. You need food and you need sleep. I think you can handle being in that building long enough to walk out of it.” 

A breeze cuts through the courtyard, wet and sharp. Shepard shivers. Kaidan shrugs out of his jacket and hands it to him.

Shepard starts to reach for it, then hesitates.

“I grew up here,” Kaidan informs him. “You were raised in a perfectly controlled temperature environment. Besides, we both know the moment you rebound you’re going to freeze.”

Shepard glares. Why it’s such a sore spot Kaidan may never know, but it's a fact that every time Shepard’s blood sugar recovers he’s temperature sensitive. It would be endearing if he wasn’t such a grouch about it whenever anyone pointed it out. As if being the galaxy’s hero renders him immune to such small fragilities. 

“Take the damn jacket,” Kaidan insists. 

Shepard grumbles, but slips it on without further argument. Black leather…looks good on him. It’s so rare to see Shepard in anything other than fatigues and combat armor. The dress uniform and _this_ are an acute reminder that he’s…really easy to look at. 

_Damnit, Tali_. 

He swallows. “There’s an energy bar in the front pocket.”

Shepard pulls it out, gives Kaidan a sidelong glance that’s half annoyed and half grateful.

“You’re not dizzy, are you?” Kaidan asks.

“No.”

Shepard eats the energy bar as they head back through the building, limp growing more pronounced the farther they walk. When they make it into a skycar Shepard collapses into the backseat and stares intently at some invisible spot on the ground, lost in thought, foot tapping restlessly as the car takes off.

Kaidan flexes his wrist, reaching into the gravity well. Shepard’s snaps to attention.

“Hey. Get out of your head.”

Shepard’s features relax, the deep lines of his brow smoothing out. “Right.”

“You’re stripping your own gears. I can hear it. Talk to me.”

He inhales deeply. “Hackett ordered me to help out a committee of analysts. They wanted to crunch numbers. Run nightmare scenarios, in case the reapers show up. I wasn’t much use to them, but I don’t think that was the point. I think Hackett wanted me to see what kind of body count we were facing, in case I get cold feet when they hang me out to dry. Again.”

“That’s…brutal, Shepard.”

He nods. “The worst part is…they’re seeing the data for themselves. But Command is going to stick it in a drawer. I think I know how they’re going to cover it up.”

“Let me guess. It has something to do with the geth.”

“Yeah,” Shepard says after a pause. “They’ll paint Sovereign as a geth construct. The rest writes itself.”

Shepard’s right. It’ll be an easy sell. Kaidan exhales and leans back against his seat. “We bought them time. We did all of this...to give ourselves a chance. And they’re going to waste it. Why?”

“It’s a lot easier to stomach if there’s another explanation. Something they can actually prepare for.”

Kaidan’s heart sinks in his chest. “And they can’t do it if we’re out there telling the real story.”

“Yeah.”

Silence weighs heavy between them. Outside the skycar window, the lights of Vancouver zip past. Street lamps cast a moody glow on the mist gathering between skyscrapers. Streaks of light from passing traffic, still thick even at this hour, intersect like illuminated circuitry. Out in the bay, the lanterns of a distant ship glitter and reflect off the water. 

Even in the dark, sleek new towers stand out amidst the older architecture of the city, always in a constant state of transformation. Some of it Kaidan recognizes, some of it he doesn’t. 

“I’m on deck tomorrow,” he says at last.

Shepard steeples his fingers and rests his forehead against them. “They’re going to come at you. I’m just not sure how yet.”

“We’ve been over this. They have everything they need if they want to take me out of the fight. It’s done, Shepard.”

“They don’t want to take you out. Bad look benching the galaxy’s heroes.”

Kaidan frowns. He’s never had Shepard’s ability to see the whole playing field. “What then?”

“They’re looking for leverage. Something they can use to discredit us – quietly. Or a playbook they can go to if they need to keep us out of their hair. It’s about control.”

“Shepard…if it’s Virmire, I can handle it.”

He’s replayed it so many times in his head. By arming the bomb Kaidan had started the clock on what turned out to be the end of Ashley William’s life. What if he’d waited? What if Shepard had just _left_ him there, like he’d intended?

Kaidan had been ready to die in that spillway. Waiting to arm the bomb would have given them too much margin for error. Too many opportunities to be stopped.

He’d been ready to die, but Shepard had come for him. Talking about it in front of a panel of Admirals isn’t his first choice, but he owes it to Ashley to do it.

“Virmire was on me,” Shepard murmurs, almost to himself. “No…it’ll be something else.”

Kaidan touches his arm until he drops his hands and looks at him. “Shepard. It’s going to be fine. Whatever they’ve got…I’ll handle it.”

“I just don’t like the odds. It’s us against the Alliance Navy. We’re a little outnumbered.”

“Is there a point during any of this we haven’t been? Nothing we haven’t faced before. Besides, you’re kind of hard to ignore.”

A small smile creeps across his face. “Is that another hidden compliment I’m detecting?”

In more ways than he knows.

“You definitely hang up on the Council better than anyone I know.”

That actually gets a laugh. By the time they reach Kitsilano Towers, Shepard looks a little better. Once he gets some real food in him and his blood sugar rebounds he might even seem like himself.

So many things Kaidan should focus on. But he keeps getting stuck on the same one.

Shepard looks really good in Kaidan’s jacket. 

~

Not long after Kaidan leaves the bar, Joker also decides he’s reached his “people limit,” and declares he’s going to enjoy private quarters while he has them.

Tali hates private quarters. They’re too quiet. Lonely. She wants someone to talk to.

After wandering the halls and swearing a little about the Alliance’s lack of signage, she finds Liara’s door and knocks on it. The asari answers and gestures gracefully for her to come inside.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” Tali says. “I just wanted some company.”

Liara shakes her head, returns to the lone chair in the small room and gestures for Tali to take a seat on the bed. The bowl of peanuts sits on the nightstand, filled with cracked, empty shells. “Of course not. I was reading.”

Tali plops onto the mattress. “Oooh. What book?”

“It’s a paper on prothean architecture.”

“Oh.” If Tali were sober, she would have hidden her disappointment better.

“It’s not a very _good_ paper,” Liara confesses. “I’m going to recommend that the journal reject it.”

Tali perks up a little. “I…have something more interesting you could try?”

“Let me guess,” Liara says with a bemused smile. “ _Forbidden Ops_.”

“How did you know?”

“You have been talking about it nonstop.”

“It’s _good_ ,” Tali protests, flopping backwards against the mattress. “And Joker won’t talk about the sex scenes. Liara. There are a lot of sex scenes.”

This, oddly enough, intrigues her. She activates her omnitool. “This is a human book, correct?”

“Yes. What are you doing?”

“Looking up human male genitalia. I always confuse it with batarian.”

Tali waves a hand. “This is all female sex.”

“Oh.” Liara closes her omnitool. “Human female genitalia I am familiar with.”

Ah. The communal showers.

“With males there’s a lot of…thrusting,” Tali says.

Liara tilts her chin. “Interesting.” 

Something starts beeping.

“I think that’s you,” Liara says.

Oh. It is. Tali opens her omnitool. Someone is…calling her? The signal source is right here in Vancouver. Puzzled, she opens the channel.

“Yes?”

“ _Ms. Zorah?_ ”

“…yes?”

“ _This is Lora Alenko. Do you have a moment?”_

Tali sits up. Liara straightens in her chair. “Yes! Is everything all right?”

_“Everything is…good. I was hoping to speak to you about the gala.”_

“Security,” Tali supplies. “Er, gossip control, really.”

Liara’s curiosity instantly turns to suspicion.

_“Yes…I suppose you’re right. Can we meet tomorrow evening to discuss?”_

Tali glances at Liara. “Yes. Did you have a place in mind?”

“ _I’ll find a restaurant that serves dextro. It would be my pleasure to treat you to dinner._ _If Lieutenant Moreau and Dr. T’Soni would like to accompany you, I would be delighted to meet them.”_

“Of course! We will see you tomorrow evening.”

She closes the connection. Liara scowls.

“Tali. We should _not_ be interfering with their personal relationships.”

Tali crosses her arms. “We are _helping_ them have a good time. It’s not like I’m going to lock them in a closet and refuse to let them out until they kiss. Though.” She tilts her head.

Liara sighs. “Well, I grant you that may be the best option to achieve your goal.”

Huh. Well. That is not the response Tali expected. Perhaps the martinis had done good work.

Liara crosses her legs and chuckles a little. “I have never met a more stubborn being than Shepard.”

Tali scoots back on the bed, kicks her legs behind her and rolls onto her stomach. “Do you think they’re in love?”

At first, she doesn’t think the asari will answer. Sometimes Liara thinks so hard she _forgets_ to answer.

“I do.”

“Then why not help?”

“Why is it so important to you?” Liara asks.

Tali props her helmet in her hand. “I read a lot of romances, Liara. I know they’re fiction. But the idea that love like that could be out there is…comforting. Especially now. The reapers are real. Maybe they won’t come in our lifetime. But maybe they _will_. Maybe it will be up to people like us – like Shepard – to stop them. If you had to walk into the fire, and the love of your life was standing by your side, would you ever forgive yourself if you just…let that pass you by?”

Liara regards her thoughtfully. “No. I suppose not.”

“That’s why.”

A smile creeps across Liara’s face. “Those must be good romance novels.”

“Sure you don’t want to give one a try?”

Liara hesitates. Tali’s omnitool is already out.

“Too late. I’m sending you the first _Forbidden Ops_ book.”

By the time Tali returns to her quarters, she no longer feels lonely.

~

Kaidan’s parents are seated in a pair of twin armchairs in the living room with a movie on when they return to the condo. Only his father appears to be watching; his mother scowls at a datapad. They both look up as Kaidan and Shepard enter.

“How did it go?” his father asks, voice clipped. Anxious.

“We’re still here,” Kaidan replies. More or less.

“There’s leftovers if you’re hungry,” his mother offers.

Kaidan puts a hand on Shepard’s shoulder and motions towards the couch. “You. Go. Sit.”

Shepard gives him a withering look but actually listens. His mother gets one look at his pale face and gets to her feet. “My god, what happened? Are you all right?”

“He’ll be fine,” Kaidan tells her from the doorway of the kitchen. “Underfed biotic. That’s all.”

“Let my blood sugar slip,” Shepard confirms. At least he has the decency to look a little embarrassed about it.

“Is there anything you need? Anything I can—” She stops, expression helpless. “I don’t…know what to do about that kind of thing.”

“It’s ok, Mom. I’ve got it.”

Kaidan opens the fridge and finds a carton of orange juice, pours a glass and takes it to Shepard. Along with an ice pack and some anti-inflammatories. If he doesn’t start to take it easy on that hip Dr. Chakwas is going to have his head. Shepard’s never understood the concept that injuries can heal if you just give them time. 

That would require patience. Kaidan has given up on the idea that Shepard might ever develop any. 

“Drink,” Kaidan orders.

Another withering look, but still no argument. 

Kaidan disappears back into the kitchen. There’s a pot of laksa in the fridge – another of his mother’s specialties – so he grabs two bowls and heats some up. When he returns to the living room, Shepard and his father fall silent and look up at him. Kaidan sits down beside Shepard, offering the bowl.

“Thanks,” Shepard says.

“Anything I should know about?” Kaidan asks, glancing from Shepard to his father.

“Just an old man worried about his son,” his father says with a hint of a smile.

Kaidan sighs. “Everyone can stop worrying so damn much. It’ll be fine.”

Would it be?

What if they _did_ decide to take him off the board? A court martial is on the table. Shepard’s the one with the name recognition, and his Spectre status protects him a hell of a lot more than it protects Kaidan.

He could lose everything. Including Shepard.

He digs into the laksa. “What’s the movie?”

His dad shrugs. “Won a few awards last year. Some kind of social commentary on the 2040s. The last generation to experience life without mass effect fields.”

“Sounds riveting.”

“That’s why I’m reviewing contracts,” his mother muses. “The volus sent over a new agreement for the wine exports. They seem to be under the impression I’m an idiot who can’t read.”

“Instead of a contract lawyer?”

“Yep.”

“The movie doesn’t have a horse in it, does it?”

“Nope.”

A smile ghosts Kaidan’s face. “Good to know some things don’t change.”

He glances over at Shepard. The color is returning to his face and some of the nervous energy has abated. Now he just looks…tired.

“Oh – I spoke to your quarian engineer just before you got home,” his mother says. “She’s lovely.”

Unease stirs in Kaidan’s stomach, and Shepard pauses mid-spoonful. “What about?”

“Gala things,” she says with an enigmatic smile.

“Mom—”

“Don’t worry. I’m not overstepping. I swear.”

Kaidan sighs.

“Shepard,” his father asks. “What does your mother think about all of this?”

Every muscle in Shepard’s body tenses. “I...got a message from her this morning,” he says.

Kaidan stirs in surprise. He hadn’t said anything. 

“She’s very proud,” Shepard says. Carefully he sets his bowl down on the coffee table and gets up, ice pack sliding off his hip. His hands search for something to fidget with as he wanders towards the set of family photos on the far wall. At least he doesn’t bother the gravity well this time.

“I see,” Kaidan’s father says. Doesn’t take a seasoned eye to see that Shepard’s put full power to shields, so thankfully he doesn’t inquire further.

Kaidan’s mother presses her lips together. She stands, finds the bottle of wine and pours a new glass. On her way back to her chair she hands it to Shepard. “See that one?” she asks, pointing to one of the photos. “That’s when Marc was stationed in Singapore. I think Kaidan was about eight.”

Kaidan remembers that photo, from some kind of botanical garden. Specifically, he remembers the dressing down he’d gotten from his father for climbing a tree.

A small, fragile smile curves Shepard’s lips.

“Did you know he played hockey?”

“I did,” he says with a nod. “He had to explain the game to me, but I think I got the gist of the basic rules.”

No, Shepard doesn’t get the rules. Kaidan has explained what an offside call is at least twelve times to no avail.

She smiles fondly.

Shepard’s smile falters, however. “I should go. Let the three of you have some time to catch up.”

“Shepard—” Kaidan starts. But his mother interrupts him with a hand on Shepard’s arm.

“Sit. Sounds like you had a long day. Get enough to eat?”

He nods.

“Then sit. Watch the stuffy movie. I’m sure Marc will have some riveting commentary of his own.”

It’s not often Kaidan ever catches a glimpse of uncertainty in Shepard. But it’s there now, as he sits gingerly back down on the couch. Kaidan puts the ice pack back on his hip.

Shepard tucks back against the cushions with his arms wrapped around himself as if to ward off a chill. Kaidan hides a smile. So many things about Shepard are unpredictable, and yet others you could set a chronometer by. 

Kaidan reaches for a blanket from the basket under the coffee table and pulls it over them both. Shepard, after a brief expression of protest, inches closer to fit underneath it. After some awkward attempts to get comfortable Kaidan pulls his arm up and out of the way, hesitates, then rests it on the back of the couch.

Shepard says little as they watch the movie. Kaidan’s father indeed has some opinions on how it portrays the impact of the Charon relay discovery. Kaidan hasn’t heard this kind of chatter in years, but it still feels familiar. Comforting. Especially when he catches his mother’s occasional eye roll, accompanied by a grin.

Halfway through the movie there’s a soft thunk against his shoulder. Shepard’s out cold, breathing soft and slow. Kaidan’s mother smiles at them over her datapad.

A thrum of guilt runs through him. Her smile is based on a lie. Shepard’s head on his shoulder is a line they’ve deliberately blurred. His parents are treating Shepard like family – a family Shepard needs – without knowing it isn’t real.

But Kaidan’s never really imagined any kind of family that isn’t Shepard. 

Heart beating hard in his chest, Kaidan moves his arm until it’s resting along the line of Shepard’s shoulders. Shepard shifts, stirs, settles back against him.

Kaidan closes his eyes. His career is on the brink. The reapers wait on the edge of dark space, with Shepard perhaps the only thing in their way. The galaxy is a match waiting to catch fire.

For more moments like this, he’d let it burn. To have Shepard, still and solid against him, the lines of worry smoothed away from his face, he’d gladly go down with it.

It’s not his to keep. Not really. But he doesn’t want to give it back.

_(you can’t change what is)_

With a soft exhale, Kaidan rests his cheek against Shepard’s head.


	6. Hold It Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan has a rough day.

_When real life ain't nothing but anger and doubt_   
_And failure's a stranger we all dream about_

[x](https://open.spotify.com/track/6xNaObGQT8V8OM5OEm6p3G?si=YG2jnJktTxO33xN7Y5Hexw)

**Hold It Down**

Joker slumps in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the floor. He’s getting really sick of Conference Room 3C and the stupid crisscross pattern on the floor.

Shepard had called him in early to dump his suspicions about a geth coverup in Joker’s lap less than an hour before taking the stand. As if that’s supposed to be _helpful_.

They’re not going to take his ship.

They’re not going to take his damn _ship_ away from him.

Shepard’s endless pacing isn’t helping. The same person who figured out how to take out a mad Spectre on the fly with nothing more than the Mako and a mini mass relay would doom them all if the only way to stop a reaper invasion involved standing still for five seconds.

“Relax, Joker.”

“Can you stop _pacing_ then? You’re giving me an epic case of anxiety right before I walk into a courtroom.”

Shepard, to his credit, stops pacing. For about three seconds.

“If you weren’t you and I weren’t me I’d deck you right now,” Joker mutters.

Shepard plants his feet again and crosses his arms. “It’s going to be fine. Trust me.”

“You _just_ told me they’re going to try to railroad me into admitting Sovereign could be a geth monstrosity. That they’re looking for leverage to keep my ass in line, and that leverage will be _taking my ship away_. What part of that sounds like it’s going to be ok to you? Why the hell would you tell me this _now_?”

A hard edge enters Shepard’s voice. “Because I don’t put my people in the line of fire unarmed.”

A quip about Torfan comes to mind, but Joker’s not that stupid. “They’re going to _bench me_ , Shepard. Why not just use a fucking firing squad at that point?”

Oh, good. There’s the look. The one Shepard gets when he’s about to put a hole in someone’s head. Hopefully someone _else’s_ head. Joker can think of a few to suggest.

“They aren’t benching you on my watch. Ok? End of it. You’re my pilot. No one else is touching my ship. Call it the perks of being a Spectre.”

That...actually makes him feel better. He waves a hand. “So you want me to go in there and just…dish whatever they give me back in their faces.”

“I want you to tell the truth. Don’t let them push you around. But do me a favor and don’t punch an Admiral. Pretty sure my pull doesn’t stretch that far.”

Joker uncrosses his arms and shifts in his seat. “I took the kill shot on a reaper, you know.”

“Yeah. I was there when it landed on me.”

“Hey, that one’s on you. Would it have been that hard to move?”

Shepard leans back against the table. “You’re gonna do fine. You brought a mutinied ship back to the Fifth Fleet without her CO and convinced an Admiral to not only _not_ throw you in a brig, but to bring the cavalry to the Citadel on the hope I was still alive. Do you have any idea how proud I am of you for that?”

Joker huffs, refusing to meet his gaze. He’s not sure what to do with compliments, especially from Shepard. “Yeah, your disappearing act on Ilos didn’t exactly help. And you took your damn sweet time actually answering the comm once you got where you were going.”

“Funny, Alenko told me the same thing after you dropped the reaper on my head.”

Joker can only _imagine_ what it must have been like to be anywhere near Kaidan while they’d searched for Shepard in the rubble. Garrus probably had to peel him off the ceiling.

Shepard pushes away from the table, winces when he puts weight on the left leg, then puts a hand on Joker’s shoulder. “I’ve got your back. Hell, after what you did I’ll _always_ have your back. Even if you do punch an Admiral.” He makes a face. “Please don’t punch an Admiral.”

Joker flops a hand back and forth. “That would hurt me more than it would hurt an Admiral.”

“You’re going to do fine,” Shepard repeats.

Joker flicks his eyes away for a moment. Shepard’s gaze is like a directed energy weapon sometimes. Meeting it head on is like staring right at the sun. “She’s not just a ship to me, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’d go down with that ship.”

Shepard grins. “Not while I’m around.”

~

There is a moment, as the courtroom doors open and Joker swings his way up to the witness stand, that Liara spies a hint of uncertainty in their pilot. A quick exhale. One palm sliding along the grip of a crutch. He scans the room, catches sight of Shepard sitting at the back to his right, nods, and sets his jaw.

Everything that follows is a sight to behold.

Liara watches from the back row, with Tali on her right, Kaidan and Shepard on her left. There is a knot of tension between her Alliance crewmates that had not existed yesterday. She understands why. Today is more personal. Today isn’t voluntary, as it had been when she and Tali had sat where Joker is now. Her friends truly are on trial today, the impact on their careers largely uncertain.

They have fought for everything. And here they are, fighting yet again. Only without their weapons of choice.

Admiral Davis is in charge of the questions this morning. He’s younger than Yetz and Sonterra, with an air of authority that is no doubt a deliberate attempt to aggravate Joker. At first Liara fears their tactic might succeed, but quickly discovers she has sorely underestimated the _Normandy’s_ pilot.

He’s defiant, argumentative, unapologetic and wears sarcasm like a medal in front of a panel of some of the highest-ranking officials in the Alliance. It’s as though he’s already assumed the worst and chooses to go down firing.

Shepard, for his part, wears a poorly concealed smirk throughout the entire display. Liara gets the feeling Joker had encouragement.

Davis makes no headway when it comes to Joker rallying the fleet from a mutinied ship. Instead of cowing, Joker gives him a brick wall that starts and ends with ‘Shepard counted on me and I delivered.’ So Davis switches to a different tactic.

He clasps his hands behind his back. Joker watches coolly, arms loosely folded across his chest. “So while the _Normandy_ willingly came to the aid of the _Destiny Ascension_ , you failed to heed the distress call of an Alliance cruiser that was lost with all seven hundred and forty-two human hands.”

“Yeah. There was a reaper in the way,” Joker retorts. “You want to make this about choosing alien lives over human lives, as if ten thousand and seven hundred and forty-two equal out in the wash. We’ve dealt with _that_ kind of racism before on this planet. Didn’t realize we wanted to bring that back.”

Davis grinds his teeth. Joker smells victory and steamrolls ahead.

“ _Reapers_ , are what you want to know about, right? Reapers. The giant alien machines hovering on the edge of black space with more firepower in one little tentacle than we have in our entire fleet?”

“Lieutenant—”

He leans forward, a snarl in his voice. “You’re damn right we lost ships. We lost ships saving the _Ascension._ We lost them trying to pry a sentient AI that described itself as, and I quote, ‘a sovereign nation,’ off the Citadel tower. There’s no way we were gonna come out of this without casualties. I can’t figure out why the hell you’re trying to make it sound like I took a popcorn break while one of our cruisers went up. I knew the _Madrid’s_ pilot.

“I was trying to kill a reaper,” Joker continues. “I _did_ kill one. And you know what’s really scary? We don’t actually know how we did it. We shot all the ordinance of three fleets from three different species at it and it didn’t do anything until Shepard fried Saren’s brains. I’m the best pilot in this damn Navy, and I can’t do half the shit a giant dreadnought-sized reaper can do because I have to follow the rules of physics and it apparently got a teacher’s pass to skip physics lessons.”

Davis raises a hand to silence him, but Joker bulldozes right through him.

“I really can’t figure out what else you could get out of me other than some really good advice. Which is to pray like hell they never get out of dark space and find their way here. Because if they do we’re dead.”

Shepard’s eyebrow raises with grim satisfaction.

The questioning continues after the heated murmuring dies down, but with far less fanfare. When they’re done with him, Joker makes a theatrical show of grabbing his crutches and limping down the aisle out the door. Shepard holds it open for him.

Tali and Liara duck out behind them, with Kaidan bringing up the rear.

“You are really testing the limits of my authority, aren’t you?” Shepard says to Joker under his breath.

“You told me to dish it out.”

“You _told_ him to do that?” Kaidan asks from behind Liara as they fight their way down the hall once again.

“I told him not to get pushed around,” Shepard calls over his shoulder.

“All he said was I couldn’t punch an Admiral,” Joker says.

Liara catches Kaidan’s eye. He looks about as pained as she feels. “Great,” Kaidan mutters.

They regroup in the same conference room. Liara finds the difference between human and asari aesthetics fascinating. These auxiliary spaces all feel like afterthoughts. The architecture she is accustomed to on Thessia employs a more holistic approach, with every space and every use integrated into a larger whole. That certainly isn’t the case here. No one would have contrived this strange, crisscross floor pattern as part of a grander plan.

However, at least this time someone with the Alliance had seen fit to equip the room with a tray of snacks, including a few dextro options. Tali helps herself. Kaidan pulls a packet of juice out of a pocket and hands it to Shepard, who scowls but takes it from him.

Liara remembers Tali’s words from last night.

_(if you had to walk into the fire, and the love of your life was standing by your side, would you ever forgive yourself if you just…let that pass you by?)_

_Damnit, Tali_ , Liara thinks.

As if she can hear Liara’s thoughts, Tali joins her on the other side of the table from Joker and Shepard, who emphatically walk through a summary of the proceedings.

“Well, that was exciting,” Tali observes. “I thought Kaidan was going to rupture a suit valve.”

“I worried Shepard would stand up and cheer,” Liara observes. So far, Shepard’s disdain for bureaucracy and politics has not caused them irreparable harm, but she fears it is only a matter of time.

Out of the corner of her eye she spots Kaidan by himself on the other side of the room, brow furrowed, ignoring the others.

Tali leans in conspiratorially. “Are you looking forward to this evening?”

“This evening?” Liara asks, puzzled.

“With Mrs. Alenko.”

Oh. She had nearly forgotten. After all her protests to the contrary she has somehow become a co-conspirator.

Though after reading the first few chapters of _Forbidden Ops_ , she’s starting to understand Tali’s enthusiasm. Companionship has never been high in her priorities. Too many other passions to occupy her time. Eventually, she assumes, it is something she will desire or pursue. If she keeps listening to Tali, however, it may be sooner than she thinks.

“What exactly are you getting us into?” she says under her breath.

“Well, it’s certainly not going to be as elaborate as hacking a geth armature, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That does not exactly make her feel better. But at least it does not make things worse.

“Is Kaidan aware of your plans?”

“He knows his mother wanted help. We could ask hi—wait, where’s Kaidan?” Tali looks around the room.

Liara frowns. “He was just here.” But Tali’s right – he certainly isn’t now.

“Should we look for him?” Tali asks.

Liara seeks out Shepard, expecting him to issue orders. Mobilize. Send out a squad to track him down. After all, Kaidan takes the stand in less than an hour. If Shepard had been agitated about Joker’s testimony, she can only imagine what is running through his head now. But instead, he huffs and shakes his head.

“Trust me. If he doesn’t want to be found we won’t find him.” He shrugs. “Best thing we can do is show up on time.”

Liara moves to stand beside him and leans her head in. “You are more relaxed about this than I was expecting.”

“Kaidan isn’t the only one with a good poker face.”

She smiles a little.

“I’ve learned over the years when he wants space, better give it to him,” Shepard says. “I don’t have to like it.”

“You are worried, then.”

Warmth washes over her skin as he digs into the gravity well.

“I have a bad feeling about this one,” he says.

~

Kaidan stares out a window overlooking the bay a few floors below the courtroom. Far enough away from his crewmates that they won’t stumble into him if they look, close enough that he can get back to where he needs to be without adding being late for his own testimony to his list of offences.

While he appreciates his crewmates’ worry and well-intentioned concern, it’s a weight he can’t afford to carry with him into his testimony. He’s got too many things swirling in his head as it is.

_Rein it in. Hold it down._

His mantra. The code he lives by. From the biotics to Shepard and everything in between. Only now, it’s a lot easier said than done. The past two days have been a test of his control in ways he never imagined, and it’s a test he isn’t passing. He only has himself to blame.

Joker’s testimony hadn’t helped. Maybe it was just Joker’s way of reclaiming what little control he has, but the middle finger he’d just given the Alliance had damned near made Kaidan nauseous.

Kaidan had spent months after BAaTT searching for control. Biotic control. Mental control. Motor control. His body was his, but he didn’t know it anymore. And he’d been terrified.

_Rein it in. Hold it down._

No one else could get hurt. No one else could look at him and see a monster or a murderer, all because he didn’t know himself.

At first he’d been so afraid to tap into his own power he’d made things worse. By holding back he didn’t know what he was capable of, which made the spikes that much harder to regulate when they happened.

Learning control meant losing it from time to time, and it was a hard lesson to learn. The orchard gave him a safer space to do it in. Turning himself loose on homemade, inanimate targets was a lot easier to stomach than doing it around people.

So he’d worked. For months, isolated and alone, finally finding the courage to lean into his abilities when no one was around. He tested his limits, learned the boundaries so he could respect them.

He rarely pushed them, but at least he understood them.

As he learned to control the biotics, the rest slowly fell in line behind it. By the time he re-enlisted, he’d reclaimed enough of himself to look in the mirror. But the real test was yet to come. Earning his commission meant using his skills in the field, no longer surrounded by objects, but beings that lived and breathed. Whose necks could snap as easily as Vyrnnus’ had.

_Rein it in. Hold it down._

So he’d adapted. Used the biotics when they were needed, but avoided live targets whenever possible. So what if he was tentative? So what if he failed to impress the onlookers who wanted to know what the mutant could do? He was there to do a job. And he did it.

He was good at it. Had the commendations to prove it.

Then he’d met Shepard. The first time Kaidan had seen Shepard's corona was like witnessing a phoenix burn itself to life. Shepard does nothing to temper his dark energy. Just lets it roil and rage, as bright as a celestial body crash landing from the heavens and as wrathful as the sea during a storm.

He’s never understood the freedom Shepard finds in losing control. But sometimes in the middle of a fight, Kaidan wishes he could drop everything and just watch Shepard flare.

Shepard had pushed him. Challenged him to confront his self-imposed boundaries. See who he could become beyond them. The answer was a lot more than he’d imagined. But can’t ever truly let go. Not the way Shepard does. It’s too ingrained. Woven into the very fabric of himself, for better or for worse.

When Kaidan walks in that courtroom, it’s going to come down to who has control. Him, or the Alliance. Ordinarily, Kaidan would like his odds. But now, he’s not so sure.

~

Kaidan passes through the last checkpoint between himself and the courtroom, squares his shoulders and walks in alone. He keeps his gaze trained on the front of the room, but still feels the wash of Shepard’s biotic field pass through him on the way there.

Admiral Davis greets him. The smug look on his face might bother someone, but Kaidan has been dealing with smug assholes ever since he’d joined the Alliance. He’s taken enough shit over the years about being a biotic to fill the room with it.

A lieutenant swears him in. Kaidan settles into his seat, every pair of eyes in the room on him, and folds his hands in his lap.

_Rein it in. Hold it down._

Davis starts with Virmire. Nothing like diving into the deep end right off the bat.

Kaidan’s voice doesn’t shake when he walks the room through the clusterfuck that had lost most of the salarian STG unit along with Ashley Williams. He’s replayed it enough in his head to not stumble when he’s forced to recount it aloud.

Because Joker’s right. Whatever his motivations, Shepard’s response to the disaster with the bomb had been textbook. Protect the asset. Save the officer.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, that according to the Alliance the value of their lives came down to who wore the most stripes on their uniform. There are some things about the military he’s never going to accept.

But the interrogation isn’t much different than dealing with a good drill instructor. Nothing he hasn’t faced before. Until Davis goes off-script.

“You are a model officer, Lt. Alenko,” Davis observes.

Kaidan watches him warily.

“Too many commendations to name,” Davis goes on. “Exemplary service record. And yet you stole a prototype stealth ship against Alliance orders.”

“The Alliance didn’t leave us much choice,” Kaidan replies.

“Even if it could cost you your career?”

The corner of Kaidan’s eye tightens in irritation. “Stopping the reapers and saving people was a lot more important than the repercussions on my career.”

“Ah yes,” Davis says with a sage nod. “Saving people. You and Commander Shepard both served on the _Myeongnyang,_ correct?”

Kaidan shifts in his seat. “That’s correct.”

“You’ve served together for a long time.”

“Yes.”

Davis tilts his head curiously. “How odd for an officer with your integrity to be so closely associated with someone of Shepard’s…reputation.”

“And what reputation is that?” Kaidan demands, fists clenching in his lap. “Commander Shepard’s list of commendations is longer than mine.”

“The kind of reputation that sacrifices eight Alliance cruisers and nineteen frigates, including the _Myeongnyang,_ your former post, to take out a single geth dreadnought.”

“It wasn’t a geth dreadnought,” Kaidan argues. “It was a reaper. A sentient AI with a mission to wipe out _all_ sentient life. Not just humanity.”

“Is that why you intervened on behalf of the _Destiny Ascension_?” Davis asks.

Kaidan blinks. “I didn’t give any order to save the _Ascension._ ”

“No,” Davis agrees. “Commander Shepard was in control of the relays, but he opened them at your urging.”

Davis signals someone Kaidan can’t see, and an audio clip plays throughout the room. The sound of Kaidan’s own voice through the speaker sounds both familiar and foreign at the same time.

_“Shepard, you can’t let those people die.”_

_“We’ve got a reaper banging on the door out there, Lieutenant. I need all the firepower I can get to take it out.”_

_“There are ten_ thousand _people on that ship!”_

Kaidan’s mind races. The Alliance must have raided the _Normandy’s_ comm logs the moment she hit drydock.

Joker’s voice joins the recording.

_“The whole Fifth Fleet is here and ready to go, Commander!”_

Shepard’s reply is terse. Kaidan remembers the look on his face. Focused. Brow drawn. But listening _._ Weighing the options. _“We throw ships at the_ Ascension _and we’re going to lose them_. _”_

“ _It’s the right thing to do.”_

Davis clasps his hands behind his back. “Did you know that the _Myeongnyang_ was among the first ships to respond to the _Ascension’s_ distress calls?”

“No,” Kaidan says, shifting in his seat. “How the hell would I have known that?”

“Would it have influenced your decision if you had?”

“You’re turning this into a hypothetical,” Kaidan replies. “I don’t see what hypotheticals have to do with anything.”

Davis’s smile is thin and unpleasant. “If you will indulge me a little, Lieutenant, the point of my hypothetical is to determine what kind of officer you really are. You serve on a flagship prototype stealth ship, under the command of one of Alliance’s most public facing officers. I think knowing whether or not you belong in that position is worth a little scrutiny.”

Kaidan bristles. “My record speaks for itself.”

Davis ignores him. “I presume you know from Lieutenant Moreau’s testimony this morning that the _Normandy_ had an opportunity to move in and render aid, and chose to continue their assault on Saren’s dreadnought?”

“Lieutenant Moreau didn’t choose anything.” Kaidan tries to swallow, but his throat is dry. “He followed orders. He had no idea my old ship was in distress.”

“Are you saying that if he had, you would have asked him to intervene?”

Kaidan opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Would he have? He has no doubt Joker would have done it, had he – or Shepard – asked him to.

 _Would_ he have?

How many poker games had he played with Beaudoin over the course of four years? The marine, who made sure everyone knew he hailed from southwest Texas back on Earth. Who had gotten Pendergrass to teach him how to cross stitch. Shepard had saved him from a court martial after he gave a laxative to a superior officer, just because the officer had been an asshole to biotics – Kaidan in particular.

Dr. Wendler had a smile that could charm a batarian, and firmly believed there was no ailment a hot chocolate couldn’t cure, including migraines. CS Navarro is the only other person Kaidan had ever given his mother’s risotto recipe.

_(everyone is dead and I don’t know what to do)_

Could he have knowingly left them to die?

“Lieutenant.”

“I—” Kaidan puts his shaking hand in his lap. “I…don’t know.”

Davis smirks. It’s subtle. Small. “You knew that releasing the relays before the Citadel arms were open would result in casualties. Alliance casualties. And yet you advocated for protecting the _Destiny Ascension,_ which cost the lives of over two thousand Alliance soldiers, including everyone on board the _Myeongnyang_. Lieutenant, would you have been so eager to spend those lives if you’d known their names?”

Understanding punches Kaidan in the gut, and he nearly laughs at how simple it is. _It’s about control_ , Shepard had said. The real question is the one Davis isn’t asking.

Could he have looked Captain Oseguera in the eye and ordered her to her death?

The answer would tell Davis everything he needed to know about whether Kaidan could be controlled, or if he was another Butcher who would stop at nothing to get the job done. Another Shepard. Kaidan swallows, tasting something bitter in the back of his throat.

“Answer the question, Lieutenant.”

Such an easy thing to make the hard call when it isn’t yours to make. When you aren’t responsible for the cost. It had been so easy to believe defending the _Ascension_ was the right thing to do because he isn’t the one who had to bear the weight of the consequences. Shepard is.

Shepard had understood what casualties meant, and still given the order. Shepard had looked his unit in the eyes and still sent them into the tunnels of Torfan. Could Kaidan have done the same?

“The _Myeongnyang_ was lost defending a ship with ten thousand people,” he says, but his voice catches, throat too dry to get the words out.

He takes a deep breath.

_Rein it in. Hold it down._

“Lieutenant Alenko.”

“I lost a lot of friends that day,” Kaidan says.

“ _Answer_ the question.”

“Yes.”

It’s a lie and they both know it.

Perhaps for the first time, he understands what it feels like to be the Butcher of Torfan.

~

When they’re finished with him, Kaidan leaves. Leaves his crew, leaves the building. Finds a bench outside in a landscaped esplanade and just sits, head in his hands. Above him, the iron grey sky hangs heavy but the air is still. It’s not long before he feels the familiar intrusion of Shepard’s biotic field. The bench creaks as Shepard sinks down onto it beside him. Kaidan feels his gaze without turning his head.

“Their deaths are not your fault.”

Kaidan stares straight ahead. “Do me a favor and don’t give me the bullshit about them being soldiers and knowing the risks.”

The bench creaks a little as Shepard shifts his weight. “The Alliance can’t hold you responsible. It wasn’t your call.”

Kaidan laughs bitterly. “That wasn't the point though, was it.”

 _The point is now they know I can’t be you._ Shepard is one person. With Ashley Williams dead, Kaidan is the only other marine from the _Normandy_ who could take up his mantle if it was needed. Someone like Hackett wanted to know if he could handle it. Someone like Davis wanted to know if he could be shunted to the sidelines.

“What would you do?” Kaidan asks, voice dull. “If you wanted to control me. How would you do it?”

“Kaidan—”

Kaidan faces him. “You’ve already thought about it. Don’t try to tell me you haven’t. Come on. I can take it.”

Shepard straightens his shoulders, expression closing up in ways that feel like a kick in the gut.

“This could be important,” Kaidan insists. “I’ve been watching your back for five years. Help me keep doing it. Please.”

Shepard exhales heavily. “Fine. Aside from the mutiny I couldn’t attack your service record, and the mutiny is going to be negated by this inquest.”

His confidence is comforting. But it’s the only thing that is.

“You’ve got too much integrity to be bought,” Shepard continues. “Best way to get you out of my hair would be to isolate you. Take your team away. Send you down the first rabbit hole I could find that would make you feel like you were doing something useful. Just not the useful thing I want to keep you away from. To keep you in line, you have to feel like you’re making a difference. Even if you’re not.”

Kaidan stares back out across the plaza. Off in the distance a group of cadets run laps. They look so young. “You’re holding back. Give me all of it.”

The gravity well shivers as Shepard flicks a spark of blue energy off his fingers. His expression is dark, eyes opaque, voice hard, like he’s talking to someone on the opposite end of his pistol instead of his closest friend.

“You’re an idealist. I’d try to make those ideals disappoint you. Make you cynical. Make you bitter.” The lines of Shepard’s forehead deepen. “You will always do the right thing. Only way to stop you is to set you up to fail. And make the price so high you’d break.”

Kaidan nods. It stings. Of course it does. Because Shepard’s right. That’s exactly how they’d do it.

The worst part is knowing it would work.

~

The conversation while they wait for Mrs. Alenko at the restaurant is considerably more strained than Tali would have hoped. She taps her fingers idly on the tabletop until Joker reaches across the table and traps her hand.

“For the fifth time,” he says, but there’s no actual frustration behind it. Just weariness.

Liara browses the menu yet again from the seat next to Joker, sets it down and scowls at her drink. A martini. She’d quickly voiced her opinion that they were not as good as the ones from last night.

The restaurant Mrs. Alenko had picked isn’t too far from the Alliance campus. The menu features a surprising variety of dextro selections. Turns out there is a shipping company nearby that exports to Palaven. The two turians seated in the back are the first ones Tali has seen since coming to Earth.

 _“Tali_.”

She’s tapping again.

“Sorry,” she says, sheepish. “I just…do you think he’s all right?”

Of course Kaidan’s not all right. His body language expression upon leaving the courtroom had very much _not_ been all right. The hunched shoulders, abrupt, staccato steps and refusal to look at anyone, including his crew mates, before striding out the door.

Joker traces a finger through some salt he’d deliberately spilled on the table, eyes downcast. He’s much quieter than usual. Even his sarcasm is at low ebb. Kaidan’s not the only one who’s had a hard day.

“Shepard found him,” he says.

“How do you know?”

“If he hadn’t, something would have exploded by now.”

She snorts back a laugh. Even Liara smiles. Joker’s not _wrong_. “It’s like when Kela realized that Astra had been taken hostage by the C-Sec officer working for a rogue Spectre.”

Liara’s head tilts. “Before joining the _Normandy_ I would have thought such a turn of events to be…unrealistic.”

Joker looks up, pensive. “Was it just me, or did you picture Garrus as the C-Sec officer?”

“The officer was a salarian,” Tali says.

“Yeah…still pictured Garrus.”

“Let me guess. You imagined the Spectre was Shepard.”

A hint of a smirk returns to his face. “Nihlus, actually. Which turned out to be good thinking on my part, given their luck was about the same.”

Tali takes another sip. “Did you get to the scene where they reunite yet?”

Liara perks up. “Oh, when they have sex in the shuttle?”

Joker smacks a hand to his face. “Tali. We had _one_ rule when I started down this hole with you. We do _not_ discuss the sex scenes.”

“I did not agree to any such rule,” Liara informs him.

“Hey, how about instead of either of you giving me _any_ hints into your kinks, you remind me why in the galaxy we’re having dinner with Kaidan’s mom right now?”

“She wanted to go over security for the gala,” Tali replies with a sigh.

“Why does she need covert security for a gala?” he asks. “I’m pretty sure you are all more than capable of protecting yourselves, and you’re required to protect me if you want me to keep hauling you out of volcanos.”

“She’s not thinking about _guns._ She’s trying to protect their relationship _.”_ Tali leans forward, elbows on the table. “She thinks they’re a couple, remember? Shepard’s got to be one of the most famous humans on the planet right now. With the, what is it called, fratin…feteniz—”

“Fraternization,” Joker supplies.

“Right. They can’t even _pretend_ to be a couple if everyone is watching.”

“So?”

“Joker. Do you _really_ think that if we can get them to share a romantic evening together they won’t finally realize that they’re not pretending at all?”

Joker’s eyes widen. Liara’s get even bigger. Behind Tali, someone clears her throat.

Slowly, Tali turns in her seat. The woman standing behind her looks nothing like Kaidan. She’s shorter, with a petite build, narrow face, and loose, greying hair that falls to just past her shoulders. But there’s no mistaking those eyes.

“Mrs. Alenko?” Tali asks, voice faltering.

“You…must be Tali,” the woman replies. She sits down in the adjacent empty seat. “It seems I have a little catching up to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will probably be weekly for a while. The whole thing is written, and now I'm a little ahead on revisions.
> 
> Y'all, it's about to get _really fun_.


	7. The Few Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan gets a little perspective. Mama Alenko does a little recon. Shepard has a realization. AKA, the chapter with all of the Alenkos.

_You're one of the few things that I'm sure of_   
_You're one of the few things that I know already_   
_I could build my world of_

x

**The Few Things**

Shepard still has Kaidan’s jacket.

Something Kaidan doesn’t realize until he gets out of a skycar alone a few blocks from the condo. The walk had sounded like a good idea in his head, but he’s quickly finding his cold tolerance isn’t what it used to be. There was a time when six degrees wouldn’t have fazed him in the least.

One more change to add to the list.

He trudges towards the lobby, shoulders hunched, trying not to look so out of place. When he was a kid, he used to scoff at the Alliance uniforms he’d see on the street, complaining about the rain and the weather after a tour in space. He’d always been proud of being a native.

When he reaches the building he hesitates just a moment before going in. Facing his parents after the debacle in the courtroom isn’t something he’s up for, but the alternative had been waiting on campus for Shepard to finish. Spending another second on Alliance ground was more than he was willing to give.

But when he reaches the condo, it’s just his father waiting for him, stacking an antigrav cart with cases of wine stamped with a familiar seal.

“Could use your help, if you don’t mind,” he says.

“Yeah,” Kaidan agrees, not sure if he should be surprised or concerned to hear his father asking for help. “What’s all this for?”

His father nods towards the wine. “They were supposed to ship this to the venue, but it wound up here, instead. So now I get to haul it over.”

“Where’s Mom?”

He grimaces a little. “I…suggested she find something to get her out of the house for a little while. Figured you might need some time to decompress. She’s not much good at decompressing.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Kaidan’s lips. “She’s a little intense, yes.” He picks up one of the remaining cases and stacks it with the others. “Thank you.”

His father nods.

Kaidan traces the label of one of the cases with a finger. Bridlespur Orchard. It had been in his mother’s family for three generations. She’s been running it now for almost twenty years. With intergalactic trade reaching new heights, she’d turned the focus even more to the wine than just produce. The label artwork is different for each variety, but it always has something to do with a horse. On the redcurrant, it’s the silhouette of a black horse rearing under the moon. The cherry wine has a grey horse leaping over a creek.

“It’s a good batch,” his father says.

The two of them load it into an oversized skycar and take it over to the venue, a concert hall over in the West End. It looks new, feels new, with high arched ceilings and understated but elegant décor. A few high-top tables are already set up around the ballroom for hors d'oeuvres, dance floor close to the stage. Boxed equipment sits up on the stage for a live band. There are two bar stations on opposite corners, but Kaidan’s father steers them towards a storeroom off an adjacent kitchen, reached through a small, discreet door that no one will notice when the gala is in full swing.

Kaidan helps him unload the wine crates largely in silence, until his father gets tired of waiting for Kaidan to bring it up.

“Looks like they put you through the ringer today.”

“That obvious?”

Kaidan hopes for levity, but his father doesn’t answer and doesn’t smile. There’s only concern in his usually stoic expression, which doesn’t make it any easier. Kaidan grabs another box off the cart and sets it on the floor. He kneels down to open it up and starts pulling bottles out to line the shelf. “The Alliance found their weak spot,” he admits.

“Shepard?”

He shakes his head, knot forming in his chest. For half a second, he almost confesses. About everything. His parents deserve to know the truth. If he even knows what that is anymore.

Would he rather the Alliance had hung him for fraternization? Even if it’s a lie?

 _Is_ it even a lie?

Whether it is or isn’t, it still feels like a better sin than admitting who you are doesn’t measure up to what they want – or what they fear. Had the Alliance wanted to punish him for loving Shepard, at least that meant something. At this point, it’s part of him in ways he doesn’t want to lose.

Maybe that’s why he can’t meet his father’s gaze and just say it.

“They took a different tactic,” Kaidan says.

“So they found a way to use the _Myeongnyang_.”

Kaidan turns from the shelf, bottle in hand, eyes wide. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t. But I was mired in politics for twenty years of my career. I know the playbook. If they want something and can’t get it, they’ll take a cheap shot. Should have said something.” His father shakes his head. “Got too caught up in how they might use Shepard against you. Used to be good at that kind of thing. Getting slower in my old age.”

“Rumors of you being old are greatly exaggerated,” Kaidan informs him, storing the bottle in his hands and moving on to the next box.

“Was it a cheap shot?”

Kaidan nods. “The _Destiny Ascension_ was under fire. I advocated for opening the relays before we got the Citadel arms open so the fleet could save the ship.”

“Thought that might have been you.” A wistful smile tugs at the corner of his father’s mouth, enough to twist Kaidan’s heart. “I saw the unclassified reports. I may not know you like I used to, but I still know you. And I know your influence when I see it. The Butcher of Torfan wouldn’t have thought twice about giving up the _Ascension_ to put our full strength towards Sovereign. My son would.”

Kaidan flinches. Shepard’s never balked at his infamous title. It’s part of him, something he even embraces, uses when necessary. But to hear it come out of his father’s mouth feels different.

“The Alliance thought it was a waste of resources.”

“How many people on that ship?” his father asks.

“Ten thousand.”

“I bet none of them thought it was a waste.”

Kaidan rubs his forehead. “The _‘Yang_ went down escorting her to the relay.”

His father nods, unpacks a full box of wine before speaking again. “Loss like that would leave a hole in anyone. But you? It would leave a gulf.”

“Well,” Kaidan says, not without some bitterness. “Good to know everyone thinks I’m the weak link.”

His father sets down the bottle in his hands on the shelf to his left. “No one thinks that. Certainly not me. And not Shepard, either. You, more than anyone I know, have the ability to see people for people. Not statistics or chess pieces. To you they’re real. To do what you do without losing that kind of empathy – or yourself – takes an extraordinary amount of strength.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t feel particularly strong at the moment.” Kaidan tightens his grip on the neck of the bottle in his hands – a redcurrant – and walks into the kitchen to look for a corkscrew. “I’m opening this,” he calls over his shoulder.

He does find a corkscrew, but the glasses are all stored away in a locked closet. He comes back in, taking a swig straight from the bottle before handing it to his father. Without protest, he does the same.

“You’re right,” Kaidan says. “It’s a good one.”

His father nods. For a few minutes, they share the bottle in silence. Comfortable silence. Not like the evening his father had come home from work early to be there before the uniforms showed up to take him away.

“He cares for you a great deal,” his father says. “Shepard, I mean.”

“Dad…”

“We talked for a few minutes last night while you were heating up dinner. These…reapers threaten the entire galaxy, but all he cared about was what the Alliance might do to you.”

 _It’s not real_ , he almost says. _I need it to be, but it’s not and you got caught in the middle._

His father takes another drink from the bottle. “Have to admit, when he came to the orchard with you we didn’t know what to think. The Butcher of Torfan, sitting in my own damned porch swing. But he’s not that, is he? You wouldn’t have brought him home if he was.”

_I brought him home because I didn’t know what I’d find when I came here, and he’d been watching my six for two years._

“Can’t tell if you’re making a point about him or me.”

His father watches him pensively for a moment. “I didn’t know what would happen to you when you went back in. I wished…you hadn’t left the way you did. Wished we’d done things differently. Handled it better. But I hoped that whatever path you chose, you wouldn’t lose who you are.”

Kaidan rubs his forehead. “Is this your way of telling me I failed your test? Because I fell in love with a ruthless killer who just so happened to save the galaxy last week?”

Kaidan almost laughs at how easy it is to confess the truth out loud. Easy, so long as Shepard isn’t actually around to hear it.

His father shakes his head. “I think you’re so good at being who you are you don’t know how to do it any other way. I also think you need Shepard as much as he needs you.”

Kaidan stares at the bottle. “What makes you think he needs me?”

“Lot of darkness comes with the kinds of things he’s been asked to do. I’ve seen soldiers walk into that dark and never find their way out. I’d imagine being a Spectre only makes it darker. The ones who don’t find a little light somewhere don’t get very far. And if they do…god help us all.”

_Saren._

“I’m not some savior, Dad.”

“Sure hope not. That’s an awful lot to ask of one person.”

But they’re asking it of Shepard. If the Alliance is trying to cover up knowledge of the reapers, if the Council continues to dig in their heels…that leaves Shepard. One person, standing alone to take on the impossible and save them all.

He thinks back to the day before he’d broken Tommy Rodenbach’s arm with that first, wild lash of dark energy. Sometimes it feels like the last day that the world – the galaxy – wasn’t too vast for him to find a foothold. He takes another drink from the bottle. “Do you ever wonder what we’d have been like – you, me and mom, I mean – if the biotics had never happened?”

Kaidan hadn’t even known the question was there until he’d voiced it out loud. Now that it’s out, he can’t take it back.

His father shakes his head. “It’s part of who you are. Being a parent means loving your child for who he is, not who you want him to be.”

“And what if who I am lets you down?”

His father wipes at the corner of his eye with a thumb. “We’re the ones who let you down, Kaidan. I’m not much for regrets, but if I’ve got one, that’s it. You needed us, and we weren’t there for you. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

~

Lora Alenko stands in the living room, staring at the photos of her family framed on the wall. Specifically, the most recent one that includes Kaidan. Age fifteen, from some late summer afternoon at the orchard. The three of them lean against one of the paddock fences. Why they went out of their way to take that photo she doesn’t remember. Marc has his arms around her. There’s a piece of straw in her hair. Kaidan wears a grin that would light up the world. He’s all limbs, gangly and skinny, so much room to grow into himself.

She’d never imagined the pain he might go through when he was so young, with the world at his fingertips.

She’d been part of that pain. Recoiled from what she didn’t know instead of loving him through it. She’d been afraid of her own son, and he’d known it.

Perhaps that’s why she’d latched on so hard and so easily to the assumption that Kaidan had found someone who could take some of his pain away. That he’d found a way to be happy.

She’d been so _sure_.

When Kaidan had first arrived at the orchard three years ago, he’d been closed, cautious, untrusting, as though he existed in a constant state of damage control. It had been like a replay of the days after he’d returned from BAaTT. Her worst nightmares realized.

But not around Shepard. When Shepard was close he’d uncoil, just a little, a hint of a smile here, a soft laugh there. He looked at Shepard like he was the way home, like he might vanish if Kaidan dared look away.

If that wasn’t enough to convince her, that early morning on the porch swing had been. Thanks to Marc and the horses she’d always been an early riser. The sun hadn’t come up yet that morning when she’d spied them through the windows on her way to the kitchen for coffee, Kaidan passed out asleep with his head on Shepard’s shoulder. She hadn’t been able to see Shepard’s face, but she had seen the arm around her son, fingers clutching Kaidan’s shoulder like he was determined to protect him. The horses got fed late that morning.

Marc had thought she was crazy. At first. But the more they talked about it, the graver he’d become. He’d seen it, too.

 _Why wouldn’t he have said something?_ Marc had asked.

 _What reason does he have to trust us with something like that?_ she’d replied.

Though if his crewmates are correct, Kaidan doesn’t trust himself, either.

That hurts more than the fact Kaidan is lying to her. Or at the very least, not telling the truth. But if they aren’t seeing each other, why is Shepard here? Surely Kaidan’s commanding officer wouldn’t just…agree to be part of a ruse to maintain appearances. In the middle of an inquest no less.

She should feel foolish. Angry, even. Instead she just wants to know why. So she can do something about it. Repair whatever damage they’ve done over the years to be at such arm’s length that something like this could happen in the first place.

The door chimes and she jumps. Then frowns. Neither Marc nor Kaidan would need to ring the bell. She heads to the door, bracing herself for another botched delivery.

“Sam,” she says in surprise, when she opens the door and finds Shepard on the other side.

“Ma’am,” he says, looking uncomfortable. His eyes roam left and right. Looking for Kaidan.

She gestures with a hand, hoping she doesn’t look as awkward as she feels. “Come on in. Kaidan’s still out with Marc. Should be back soon.”

He nods and follows her inside.

“I have something for you,” she says over her shoulder. After her enlightening dinner with Kaidan’s crewmates it feels a little silly, but no sense in wasting it. She ducks into her bedroom and grabs a garment bag laying across the bed. When she returns with it to the living room, Shepard stands at parade rest, gazing at the framed photos on the wall. Specifically, the one of Kaidan in his hockey uniform. He’d been about ten then, if she remembers correctly. So young. She catches the corner of Shepard’s mouth turning up in a subtle smile.

Kaidan’s crewmates had been reluctant to elaborate on their…assumptions about her son’s feelings for Shepard, and vice versa. But they had been steadfast in their belief. Especially Ms. Zorah. The asari - Dr. T’Soni – hadn’t said much, but her silence said more than she probably thought it had.

So what is the truth?

Whatever Kaidan is, or isn’t, to this man, Shepard is a link to something she doesn’t have. He carries with him pieces of her son that she knows nothing about.

There’s so many. It’s not a part of motherhood she had been prepared for.

She takes some solace that it goes both ways. Shepard has no context for the photos on the wall, while she intimately knows them all. The two seasons he’d spend on the Youth 2A Blades Hockey Club. The snowman he’d built at the orchard that was so big his father had had to help him push the middle ball up onto the base, and Kaidan hadn’t been tall enough to put the head in place. The photo from the National Orchid Garden in Singapore, when they’d nearly gotten thrown out after Kaidan had wandered off out of boredom and been caught trying to climb a baobab tree.

Those are her pieces of Kaidan.

Shepard turns at the sound of her approach. He has such old eyes for someone so young. Had Marc been the same way at his age? It seems like something she would remember, but for the life of her she can’t.

“How did it...go today?” she asks, not sure she wants the answer.

A troubled look briefly crosses his face before it vanishes. Her heart constricts a little. So Marc had been right. Things had not gone well.

“I see,” she says.

“They got to him,” Shepard says, bitterness creeping into his voice. He runs a frustrated hand over his scalp. “I should have...I don’t know.”

Her mind races. Would Kaidan get demoted? Is a court martial coming? Will they reassign him? Surely as a Spectre Shepard has some pull. If not, maybe Marc can contact Admiral Trellis. They’ve been friends for years; there have to be favors there he can call in. And she hasn’t been carefully cultivating a network of some of Earth’s wealthier and better connected people to not call in a few favors of her own. Maybe someone can apply a little pressure in the right places.

“Whatever they do to him, there have to be options,” she says. “If you can tell me what’s happening I can make a few calls—”

That small, ghost of a smile returns to his lips. “No—I don’t think that’s necessary. They won’t take action against him, not if I can help it. It’s hard to explain, I guess. It’s all politics. The kind that takes good people, chews them up, spits them out and expects them to salute.”

Her heart beats a little faster, and she takes a chance. “It’s hard when we can’t protect the people we love.”

His eyes dart to her, then back to one of the photos. It’s the one of Kaidan with his arms wrapped around Zeus, the golden retriever who’d been around since before Kaidan was born. Shepard shifts his weight, but doesn’t answer.

“He’s stronger than you think,” she tells him gently. More easily hurt, perhaps, but tougher in his roots than she’ll ever be. She remembers him at sixteen, squaring his shoulders, gripping his shoulder bag with white knuckles, walking out the door with an Alliance escort and into an unknown future she hadn’t been able to protect him from.

She’s never been good at protecting him at all. Never could figure out when to push him, when to give comfort. When to help, when to let him figure it out on his own.

“I know,” Shepard says softly.

He does, she realizes. If anyone does it’s this man, who’s fought literally side by side with him for the last five years. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?

She lifts the garment bag off her arm and holds it out to him. “This is for you. You should try it and see how close I got with the fit.”

He takes it from her, confusion on his face. She smiles.

“I’ve been married to an Alliance soldier for forty-two years. I’m tired of dress blues. Thought you deserved something different.”

Shepard cocks his head curiously, watching her with those sharp eyes of his. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, a chagrined look on his face.

She raises an eyebrow. “Permission to speak freely granted, Commander.”

His disarming smile returns. “Just…you are a very different person here than the one I remember from the orchard.”

“Ah,” she says, with a smirk. “You’re wondering how the woman who lives in the barn knows how to throw a gala.”

“Something like that.”

She chuckles. “Marc calls it Jekyll and Hyde. It’s a long story. Party planning wasn’t my first choice of skills, but I don’t do things halfway. Between you and me, I prefer the barn.”

“Think I would, too.”

She remembers how easily Shepard had walked right up to Althea’s stall and put a hand under her curious nose. Never seen a horse before in his life, and yet no qualms about letting a thousand-pound animal whuffle his palm. Kaidan’s alarm over the entire scene had been palpable. At the time, it had seemed like another sign of his affection.

Supposedly biotics unsettled animals. She remembers the cat acting differently after Kaidan manifested. But Althea, the most high-strung mare she’s ever worked with, had almost immediately nosed around in Shepard’s pockets searching for a carrot. Yet more proof of how little she knew about what it was like to be a biotic.

She certainly hadn’t tried hard enough to understand it when it mattered most.

Shepard disappears into the bedroom to try on the suit. When he comes back out she grins. She’d taken a gamble with the red stripe on the right arm, but it paid off. It’s subtle, elegant even, against the charcoal grey. Whatever their real relationship is, Commander Shepard dresses up rather nicely. Not hard to see why her son would be attracted to him.

“Well?” he asks. “Do I pull it off?”

She walks over to him and tugs the collar into place, smooths the front of the coat, satisfied smile spreading over her face. “I can’t wait to see the look on Kaidan’s face.”

And she can’t. Because she knows, she _knows_ what she saw at the orchard three years ago, and what she’s seen here for the past two days.

She thinks back to her conversation over dinner. She has a choice now. Let it go and watch it play out however it will, or join Ms. Zorah’s efforts to…nudge things along. She tilts her head and scrutinizes Shepard closely.

“Do you dance, Sam?”

His eyes widen a little. “Ahhh. No. I mean, I have _been_ on a dance floor. But Kaidan would be the first to tell you it’s not pretty. My pilot would be the second.”

He’s correct about the pilot. Mr. Moreau had been rather emphatic about it.

_(He has two left feet made out of lead that should be registered as lethal weapons. If his gun jams all he needs to do is dance his enemies to death and he’d win every time.)_

She straightens and holds out her hand. “Lucky for you, then, I have some modest skills and can probably impart some wisdom. Assuming you plan to dance tomorrow night?”

Shepard rubs the back of his neck, fingers brushing his amp jack. She wonders if it itches. “I suppose I would hate to disappoint,” he says with a lopsided smile.

She holds up her arms, signaling for him to take her hand. He accepts with a gracious dip of his head.

“Keep in mind I’m a rider, not a dancer, but I’ve been to enough military balls I think I can give you a few tips to get by.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

He’s got a good grip. Strong, but gentle. She starts to reach for his shoulder, but pauses halfway there and puts her hand to her chin. “Which one of you will want to lead?”

He blinks. “Uh. What?”

“Generally one person leads, the other follows,” she explains. “If you’d like to lead, you’d put an arm around his waist. If you follow, your hand would go on his shoulder.”

He stutters just a little, looking more like a deer in headlights than a highly trained spec ops soldier who’d taken down a Spectre.

She breaks into a smile. “Sam. Relax. Consider it an intelligence briefing.”

“Right. Uh. Let’s try this.” He gingerly places his hand on her waist.

“I won’t break, Commander.”

He relaxes a little. Ah, military. You just have to speak their language. Use rank, establish an objective, give them an order and they come through. It’s real life that’s a little harder. Works all the time with Marc. She wonders if it works with Kaidan. Tries not to think about the fact that she doesn’t know.

A pang of jealousy runs through her. Everything she knows about Kaidan is over a decade out of date. Even her mental picture of him is out of date. She keeps expecting the gangly string bean of a kid he’d been when he’d left to walk back through the door. Every time she sees the grown man he’s become it takes her breath away.

She’s piecing together little things. He doesn’t laugh as much as he used to. She supposes that was inevitable, and probably traces its roots to the day BAaTT showed up to take him. He’s more reserved. More careful. He’d always been a thoughtful child, but that reckless streak is gone. She’d never had to guess what he was thinking when he was a kid. Now he’s almost as enigmatic as the person in front of her who doesn’t know how to dance.

The kid who used to stare up at the sky with stars in his eyes is still there, she knows he is, but he’s a lot harder to see.

Besides, Kaidan’s not looking at the stars anymore. He’s looking at Shepard. Time and distance hasn’t erased her ability to see that. She’s _sure_ of it.

Heaven help her – she’s going along with it. If Marc knew she was working Kaidan’s crewmates to set her son up with his commanding officer he’d faint.

She shows the commander how to move his feet, almost impressed at how someone so capable at so many things could be so inept at this one, singular thing. There really isn’t much to teach when it comes to slow dancing, but she has his full and rapt attention, so she does her best to seem helpful.

“You can admit it if I’m a hopeless case,” he informs her, snapping her back to the present.

“One thing I’ve learned from horses,” she says. “There’s no such thing as a hopeless case.”

“Mind sharing some of that optimism with my pilot?”

She laughs. Given his reputation, it still surprises her when Shepard’s genuine charm shows. Perhaps she’s not the only one with a Jekyll and Hyde complex. The question is which one is real.

Truthfully, she doesn’t really care. She just wants those missing pieces. She wants to understand why they might be fighting so hard against something she’d believed in so easily until an hour ago. And why they’d thought they’d needed to lie to her to cover it.

Shepard tilts his head, a curious smile crossing his face. “Now I know where he gets that from.”

“Gets what?”

“That look. When he’s thinking about whether or not he should say something. Same expression you’ve got right now.”

Most people think Kaidan favors Marc more than he does her. Her heart leaps at the prospect that maybe, just maybe he’s carrying around more of her than she thinks.

“So does this mean you really do think I’m a hopeless case?” Shepard asks.

She shakes her head. “Nope. But...yes, I was thinking about asking you something.”

It’s only because she’s standing so close to him in the moment that she notices how subtly everything about him tightens. Bracing for impact.

“Tell me about him,” she pleads.

He tightens up a little more. “About Kaidan?”

She nods, lets go of Shepard and sits down on the couch. Shepard remains on his feet, watchful and waiting. On guard. Protecting Kaidan? Protecting himself? Hard to tell.

“What’s he like?” she asks. “I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

He shuffles his feet, then sits down beside her. His gaze falls to some invisible point on the floor in front of him, lines of his forehead dug deep. When the words come they’re stiff. Formal. Like he’s addressing a tribunal.

“He’s one of the best soldiers I’ve ever served with. I trust him with my life. Have since the day I met him.”

Of course. It always comes back to the uniform. Sometimes she hates the goddamn uniform. A scowl forms on her face.

Shepard side eyes her, as if sensing he’s missing his mark.

“He’s…kind,” he says after a while, twisting his fingers in his lap. Less formality this time, but the words come slow, as if he turns each one over in his head before putting it out there for her to hear. “I lead the marine detail on the _‘Yang,_ but Kaidan’s the one who took care of them. Played wingman for Beaudoin. Brought Pendergrass out of her shell. Taught Aslany how to cook.”

Now he’s watching her. Reconnaissance. Evaluating whether he’s on target this time.

“He always liked messing around in the kitchen,” she says. “One of the few things we had in common.”

Kaidan used to watch her make dinner when he was a kid. He loved stirring whatever she had in a pot on the stove. Always wanted to be the one who checked the oven. By age fourteen he’d started experimenting with his own recipes. He’d always gone too heavy on the pepper.

“He cooks when he can’t sleep,” Shepard tells her. “CS Navarro, the cook on the ‘ _Yang,_ used to give him hell for raiding his supplies. I think Kaidan bribed him with a few recipes to create some peace. Don’t worry, he guards your risotto recipe with his life.”

She laughs. She doesn’t know what magic she puts in the risotto, but she’ll happily take it.

“He’s careful,” Shepard continues. “Being able to control himself and his biotics is...everything to him.”

“Because of what happened at BAaTT,” she murmurs.

Shepard nods. “In our early days on the _‘Yang_ I came down on him for being late to an early morning drill. First time he’d ever been late to anything, and I let him have it. Few nights later I found him in the ship’s gym at 01:00, working on biotic motor control. He’d been giving up his rack time every night since he’d come on board.”

 _So no one would feel unsafe._ The haunted look in Kaidan’s eyes when he’d returned home will go with her to the grave. The guilt he’d carried had been so heavy it felt like a palpable thing she could reach out and touch. To this day she doesn’t know what he’d done after fleeing to the orchard. He’d told them not to follow…and they hadn’t, against her better judgement. But the physical transformation when he’d come back to tell them he was enlisting again had been shocking. All lean muscle over hard edges, not an ounce of him wasted or spared. She knew about military gene mods, but by the time she’d met Marc he was already in the service. She’d never seen the transformation for herself. Between that and the cold determination in his eyes, he’d looked like a stranger.

“He’s got the patience of a saint,” Shepard continues. “I’m his worst nightmare half the time. I improvise, make things up as I go, spike my amp all over the map. Don’t pay attention to my blood sugar. I’m a constant source of stress for him, but he puts up with it. Makes sure that when I do something stupid like walk up to Helena Blake while she’s surrounded by mercs and tell her to kiss my ass, he’s got his pistol out to make sure I don’t die.”

She grimaces. Some aspects of her son’s job she doesn’t care to be reminded about.

Shepard digs at the carpet with his boot. “Everyone thinks he wears his heart on his sleeve, but he doesn’t. Not really. What really matters to him he keeps locked down and out of sight. Part of why he’s so good at bluffing.” He looks up. “Don’t ever play poker with him. He’ll rake you over the coals for all you’re worth.”

“ _Kaidan_? Poker?”

“He’s a lethal weapon with cards, ma’am.”

She laughs again, but it gets stuck on the lump forming in her throat.

“First time I sat down at a table with him he played me for one hell of a sucker. But he did it to show our team I was human, not the Butcher of Torfan. Because I hadn’t bothered to show them that myself. To this day, I don’t know why he was so convinced there was more to me.”

“Kaidan’s…always _wanted_ people to be better than they thought they were,” she says softly. _Sometimes better than they’re capable of being._

“Yes,” Shepard replies, voice distant. “He sees the good in everything. We were surrounded by dead rachni on Noveria, and he made a comment about the snow. We spent an afternoon chasing down monkeys on Eletania – please don’t ask why – and instead of cussing every god he could think of like I did, he talked about how lucky we were to get to stand on an alien planet like that on such a beautiful day. Mrs. Alenko, the pollen alone on that planet would have killed us, but all he saw was how pretty the sky was.”

 _The kid who used to stare at the stars is still there after all_ , she thinks, heart breaking a little.

“Always wished I could see the galaxy through his eyes,” Shepard says, almost to himself. “Think it would feel like a better place.”

A tear springs to her eye. She puts a hand over her mouth.

“He’s good at making you laugh, too,” Shepard continues. “Sometimes because he says something so simple and honest but _absurd,_ like how the floor of a prothean ruin looks like bathroom tile, that you can’t help it. Other times he lays a dagger on you when you least expect it. And you can tell he knows it lands by the way he smirks.” Shepard shakes his head, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “First time he hit me with one of his deadeye smartass remarks I didn’t even pick up on it until I’d left the room. I walked back in and had him repeat it to be sure I’d heard him right. Then I made certain there was a soundproof wall between us before I laughed so hard I damn near cried.”

He huffs at the memory, smile growing wider.

“That laugh of his can make even the worst away mission feel like a good day. Got to where I made a point of finding some way to make him laugh every time we’d head back to the ship. Just because I wanted to hear it--oh.”

Lora snaps out of her trance when he falls abruptly silent. In place of the smile that has been there just moments ago he wears an expression bordering on shock, even disbelief.

Shepard puts a hand to his mouth, stifling a weak laugh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, without any confidence at all behind it. “Just figured out something my science officer was trying to tell me the other day.” His breath shakes as he exhales. Eventually he offers her a weak smile. “Kaidan would shoot me if he heard me say any of this.”

She scrubs at the dampness on her cheek. “I won’t tell him. I promise.”

“There’s not a lot I’ve been able to count on in my life,” Shepard says, not meeting her gaze. In fact, deliberately avoiding it. “He’s...one of the few things I’m sure of.”

She rests a hand on Shepard’s knee. “You’ll look after him, right? Keep him safe?”

He nods slowly, something flickering across his face she can’t identify. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been SO EXCITED to share this chapter. I really hope you love it even half as much as I do. From here on out I basically just scream into a pillow.


	8. Rain Changes Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Kaidan take a stroll. Biotic rock throwing. Flirting as a goddamned _sport_.

_Well I've been on fire, dreaming of you_   
_Tell me you don't_   
_It feels like you do_

[ x ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6Qwuw0eOeszVlewLpu24gR?si=sy80buWkQYW4H3WIOkBiig)

**Rain Changes Everything**

****

[ _Art by xla-hainex_ ](https://xla-hainex.tumblr.com/)

A handful of stars peek through a break in the clouds as Kaidan and his father return home. For knocking out nearly an entire bottle of wine between the two of them, Kaidan is painfully sober. A quick glance at his father suggests the same, though now that he thinks about it, Kaidan’s not sure what his dad is even like with too much in him.

“Something wrong?” his father asks as they wait for the elevator.

Again, the temptation to tell him everything is right on the tip of Kaidan’s tongue. _Tell me what to do. Please._

Instead he forces a smile. “Just trying to picture what you’d be like after a heavy dose of shore leave. It’s not coming to me.”

His father raises an eyebrow. “Parents have to have some secrets.”

Kaidan huffs.

Upon entering the condo, they find both his mother and Shepard sitting in the living room. Both get to their feet at the sound of the door. Shepard hangs back, but Kaidan’s mother makes a beeline for them and wraps Kaidan in a hug. After a moment she lets go of him and gestures towards Shepard, who remains in the living room, nearly still except for the slight rocking back and forth on his heels. A garment bag lays draped over the arm of the couch beside him, charcoal grey cloth visible through the open zipper.

Kaidan walks towards him slowly. “Hey.”

Shepard nods a greeting, holding Kaidan in a tightbeam gaze that used to unnerve him before discovering it was a defense mechanism. When Shepard doesn’t have an answer for something he does his best to stare it down, as if he can bully the solution into presenting itself. Not often Kaidan’s on this side of it.

_Why now?_

“Was going to go for a walk,” Shepard says. “If you’re up for it.”

“Uh, sure.” He eyes Shepard’s hip. “Are _you_ up for it?”

“Yeah. Feels good today.”

He’s lying, has to be, but the smirk that creeps across his face makes it impossible for Kaidan to argue.

“C’mon,” Shepard says. “I’ll even find a jacket so you can have yours back.”

Kaidan doesn’t take his back. When they leave the condo, he grabs one of his father’s instead.

~

The sky has closed up again by the time they reach Kitsilano Beach. Without the stars the view of the water is mostly hidden in the dark, but the sound of the waves gently rolling in makes up for what they can’t see. There’s only a slight hitch in Shepard’s gait, and a better-than-average chance he’s hiding the worst of it.

Kaidan jams his hands into his pockets. The wind gusts a lot harder down here on the water, but it’s worth it for the view, even if the only light comes from the glow of the lamps along the boardwalk. And the company’s nice, too.

Shepard looks really fucking good in his jacket.

“How the hell did you deal with all this…weather growing up?” Shepard asks with a shiver.

“Not a fan of the wind?”

He makes a face. “I’ve been salty and damp since I walked through the airlock.”

Kaidan chuckles. “You wanted to come out here.”

“You’re supposed to stop me when I do things like that.”

“Admit it. The scenery’s nice. Better than a bulkhead.”

“Yeah,” Shepard says after a long pause. But he’s not looking at the water. Kaidan’s pulse quickens just a little.

_It’s nothing._ Shepard looks at him a lot. The lines are just so muddled now he can’t keep track of what any of it means.

“I like the space,” Kaidan says. “Can’t go for walks like this on the _Normandy_. Not without a serious case of déjà vu.”

“There’s the Citadel,” Shepard points out. “Arcturus.”

“They don’t have a beach. Or thunderstorms.”

“Yes, trudging around in the rain sounds like a significant upgrade from a nice afternoon on the Presidium.”

“No afternoon when it’s always midday,” Kaidan counters.

“At least you won’t get struck by lightning.”

“Ah, you’ve never seen a storm roll into the bay,” Kaidan says with a faraway smile. He turns his gaze to the water. “The rain changes everything. The clouds knot up way out on the horizon like a bruise. On a good day, you can make out lightning strikes over the water while there’s still sunshine right over your head. The contrast of the light and that wall of cloud approaching is a hell of a thing to see. That rich blue the water was the day we got here? Forget it. It becomes this churn of gray waves that really makes you wonder how anyone ever had the guts to sail the open sea. It’s beautiful.”

“Think I’d rather take advantage of a balcony view with a nice roof over my head.”

“Sure. That too.”

Shepard gives him a lopsided grin. “Still. You do a nice job selling it.”

Kaidan chuckles. “Always liked just listening to a storm. The thunder. Rain. Funny how something that…turbulent can make all your thoughts stand still for a little while. Help you think.”

Shepard turns back towards the water, pensive. They lapse back into a comfortable silence, slowly winding along the boardwalk. Shepard’s step is uneven but sure enough that Kaidan pushes the worry out of his head and just…enjoys himself for once. No mission objective. No nav point. Just aimless wandering, following the coastline.

Just _them_.

A glimpse, maybe, of what could be. Just like the sunset on the balcony, Shepard falling asleep on his shoulder.

_(pretending it’s not real doesn’t make it less real)_

But no matter what Joker says, naming something gives it power. Gives it shape. Maybe that’s what he’s really afraid of.

Shepard doesn’t say much as they meander, and the closer they get to Hadden Park the quieter Kaidan gets, too. It’s the first time he’s been here since the night he’d hit bottom, over ten years ago. It had taken him a long time to crawl out of that hole. But he’d done it, eventually.

The bench is still there. He expects to feel something. Instead it’s just…a bench. Maybe time does heal all wounds.

Shepard comes to a stop, eyes fixed on the water. He jams his fists deeper into his pockets, fidgets with something he finds there. “I should have known what the Alliance was going to throw at you. I’m sorry.”

_(these reapers threaten the entire galaxy, but all he cared about was what the Alliance might do to you)_

Kaidan shrugs. “Wasn’t anything you could have done. They shot and I flinched.”

Shepard shifts his weight off the bad hip. “Kaidan.”

A flash of anger burns hot in his cheeks. “They’re right, Shepard. If I’d known the _‘Yang_ was in trouble I would have told Joker to save them. If I’d been in charge on Torfan I’d have ended up just like Major Kyle, or worse. So I’m not cut out to make those kinds of decisions. It’s ok. I’ll live with that.”

Shepard watches. Waits for the rest.

Kaidan clenches his fists, a whiff of dark energy curling about his fingers before he cuts it off and bottles it back up. “They were _vetting_ me as your replacement. How much trouble I’d be if something happened to _you._ And I—” Kaidan stops, a knot growing tight in his stomach.

_I don’t want to think about a galaxy without you in it._

He can’t voice the thought out loud. To his relief Shepard doesn’t press. Instead he wanders off the foot path towards the seawall, where he stoops down with a grimace to grab a rock. Kaidan follows, flexing his fingers.

Shepard palms the rock in his hand, tosses it up in the air, catches it, then launches it into the dark. From the distance comes a faint splash.

“Your mom asked me about you tonight.”

“Oh, great,” Kaidan says with a sigh. “Is there a twenty-point plan yet to get my career back on track?”

Shepard shakes his head, voice frustratingly neutral. “She wanted to know what you were like.”

“What I’m like?” Kaidan asks in confusion.

He shrugs. “People change a lot in ten years. She wanted to catch up.”

Kaidan’s eyes dart back towards the bench. “And what did you tell her?”

A thick pause follows. Kaidan can almost hear the gears turning in his head. But then he smiles and shrugs it off. “That you’re a vicious poker player who takes no mercy on your victims.”

Kaidan laughs in spite of himself. “Would have liked to see her reaction to that.”

A faraway smile crosses Shepard’s face. “Forgot what it’s like to have a family.”

“I’m…sorry.”

Shepard crouches back down for another rock, sticking his foot out at an awkward angle to spare the bad hip. “Don’t really think about what you don’t have, until you have it.”

“Shepard—”

“Just wanted you to know your mother cares.”

“I know she does,” Kaidan replies. He looks around. No one else in sight. He bends down to find a rock of his own, waits for Shepard to launch his, then flicks his wrist. His corona flares, wreathing the rock in a blue halo that lights up the water like a skipping star. Shepard gives him a withering look. Kaidan smirks.

“Her heart’s always in the right place,” he says. “We just don’t know how to...help each other, I guess. We don’t _get_ each other. She could never just tell me that something was going to be ok.”

The gravity well dips as Shepard tries the same trick, his rock careening into the distance with a tail like a comet. The water glows as it sinks beneath a wave.

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

Kaidan rolls his eyes. “Yes, Shepard, perfect time for an ‘everyone becomes their parents’ joke.”

“Sorry.” Shepard stoops down to fish for another rock. His balance bobbles as he tries to push back to his feet, but Kaidan’s hand is already waiting to help pull him up.

“I saw so many doctors. All in the name of finding a ‘cure’ to something that was just… _me_.”

“Which is what made you feel broken in the first place,” Shepard supplies.

“Yeah. You never forget what it feels like to realize your mother is afraid of you.” Kaidan sighs. “After everything blew up, we didn’t talk for a long time. And then when that changed, it was just safer to not talk about anything that really mattered.”

They each take a throw. Kaidan’s rock skims the water in a tight, neat coil of dark energy until he lets it go. Rather than guide his, Shepard puts his power in the throw itself, relinquishing control as soon as the rock leaves his hand. It punches through an incoming wave, lighting it up with a luminescent shimmer before vanishing into the dark.

“Tell me what happened,” Shepard says.

Kaidan turns his head in surprise, finds Shepard looking right back at him, rolling another rock in his fingers. The expression on his face is one Kaidan hasn’t seen before.

“That night when it blew up,” Shepard says, voice soft. “Tell me what happened.”

Kaidan swallows, for a moment unable to tear his eyes away. “See that bench over there?” He points back behind them, and Shepard’s gaze follows.

“Yeah.”

“I had my first panic attack on that bench.”

The rock stills in Shepard’s palm. “I didn’t know you had panic attacks.”

“Only a few. And not in a long time. But that one was a hell of an introduction.”

Shepard’s eyes flick from Kaidan to the bench.

“It was after I’d come home from BAaTT,” Kaidan says. “I was a mess. My mother jumped out of her skin anytime I entered the room. My dad was stuck in the middle, trying to figure out if I was going to be charged with anything in Vyrnnus’ death. Imagine having to deal with turian extradition bureaucracy when you’re seventeen.”

The lines on Shepard’s forehead tighten.

“I came out here to clear my head. Someone just…looked at me. Some stranger I’d never seen before and would never see again. And all I could think was…they knew. They _knew_ what I’d done to Vyrnnus. All of a sudden I was sitting on that bench unable to breathe, positive I was about to die.”

Kaidan picks up another rock, the familiar warmth of dark energy lapping at his arm. The freedom of using his biotics - _here_ , of all places - with just Shepard as a witness is almost…euphoric. He steps back into it and lets it fly with a snap. Shepard watches it sail.

“When I got it together enough to get home, my mom knew something was wrong. I was too rattled to explain, didn’t want her to micromanage it. She wouldn’t let it go. Couldn’t understand why I was so resistant to solving my problems. We wound up in a shouting match. Or as much shouting as I could do with my hands behind my back.”

“Because you were afraid of flaring,” Shepard surmises.

“Yeah.” Kaidan huffs, using a mnemonic to sheath his wrists in dark energy. He stares at the flickers of blue, turning his hands over and working the coil of energy around in his palm. How hard fought this simple act had been. He’d felt so much fear back then. He lets it dissipate and looks back out at the bay.

“She took one look at where my hands were and understood what it meant. I’ll never forget the look on her face. She backpedaled away from me so fast she hit the mantle and knocked a few pictures off the wall. Broken glass everywhere. Then she asked me if they’d done anything other than train me to hurt people.”

Shepard winces. The memory is still vivid in Kaidan’s head, but the edges are no longer sharp.

“I left for the orchard the next day and told them not to come after me. They listened. Which should have been a relief but…it wasn’t. I guess I wanted them to see through me, come after me anyway, though I don’t know what they would have done if they had. I didn’t know how to ask for help and they didn’t know how to give it. I saw them only once after that. The day I signed back up and told them I was leaving.” He offers Shepard a half-hearted smile. “That’s what happened.”

Shepard fixes him with that look, the one that ignores all armors and barriers and gets right under his skin. “Is that why you helped me the day we met?”

Kaidan opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

They never talk about the day they met. When Kaidan had been dispatched by Captain Oseguera to hunt down his brand new, AWOL XO and found him huddled in the back of a hole-in-the-wall bar on Arcturus clutching a bottle like it was the only thing saving his life, oblivious to everything around him except the effort needed to take his next breath. And the next one.

“I know you,” Shepard says. “Not hard to guess what you thought of me. The Butcher of Torfan isn’t exactly someone you were going to have a lot in common with. I wasn’t your problem. You could have just reported my location and walked away. No one would have blamed you. _I_ wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Kaidan runs his thumb over the rock in his hands, kinetic energy humming under his skin. Part of him, for better or for worse.

“I can’t tell you how many times I wished someone would have just…known what I’d done, but not defined me by it. And if I needed that…I thought maybe you might, too.”

A long silence follows, interrupted only by the ever-constant rhythm of waves rolling to shore. Shepard’s corona roars into being, lighting him up like a torch. Tendrils of dark energy snap and snarl, eager for an outlet. It’s mesmerizing.

The rock in his hands is such a waste of the power Shepard is capable of. He’s raw, uncontained energy when he lets loose. No precision. No control. Everything Kaidan has always been afraid of. He’d burn you up if you got too close.

There are worse things to go down in flames for.

The rock zips out into the bay, a bright sapphire that eventually melts into the dark.

“I’m glad you did,” Shepard says, voice so soft it almost gets lost in the roar of the waves.

“Me too.”

Kaidan keeps his eyes trained on the spot where the last rock had finally gone under, still looking for that glimmer of blue even though it’s long gone. He can’t meet Shepard’s gaze. Shepard would see everything. So they stand shoulder to shoulder, hands jammed in their pockets. When they finally speak, it’s at the same time.

“Kaidan—”

“I almost—”

They both stop. Shepard gestures for him to speak.

“I almost told my dad the truth tonight. That there’s not actually anything between us.”

“I…see,” Shepard says, still focused on the water.

“This may come as a shock to you, but lying isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

A hint of a smile. “So why didn’t you, then?”

“I don’t know. Selfish, I guess. Because the truth sounds like one more problem to solve and I need a fucking break.”

“I’ve met a lot of selfish people, Kaidan. You’ve never been one of them.”

Kaidan nudges a rock with his foot, watches it roll down the hill towards the water. “You deserve a medal for going along with this. Don’t worry. I already ordered it. To show my appreciation I’ll even get you off the hook for dancing tomorrow night.”

Shepard shifts his weight – regardless of what he’d claimed earlier the hip is definitely bothering him now – slower to smile than Kaidan expected. “Yeah, well. I dance with you and pretty sure you’ll be the one who deserves a medal.”

“Already ordered that one, too. Just in case.”

Shepard huffs. “I’ll spare you the court martial when word gets back to the Alliance.”

“Dunno. Given I’ve already gone rogue, committed mutiny and aided and abetted the assault of the human ambassador, soon-to-be-councilor, I’ll take my chances.”

“Such a renegade.”

Kaidan rubs his arms as a gust of wind cuts through. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“Shepard.”

The gravity well shifts again, but this time it’s just Shepard flexing his fingers, only the faintest wisp of dark energy visible in his palm.

“Tomorrow’s going to be a long day,” he says at last. Kaidan’s heart constricts at the weariness in his voice. Like someone who’s finally growing tired of getting back up off the mat.

He’ll be on the stand all day. They’ll grill him for hours. _Shouldn’t have come out here_. A thrum of guilt runs through him. Shepard needs rest. Sleep. And if not those two things, time to prepare.

“I’m sorry. I…” An endless litany of platitudes tumble in his head, all of which fall short. So he goes with the one that holds the most truth. “I’m here.”

Shepard watches the water a little longer. By the time he turns to Kaidan there’s no trace of the maudlin slip. He cracks a grin. “Guess I should get you back home. Hate to keep you out past curfew. Your parents might not let me see you again.” He trudges back towards the path.

“You’re the worst,” Kaidan calls out after him. “You know that, right?”

“Nah. You’re too good a judge of character for that.”

Shepard’s limp becomes more pronounced the longer they walk, until Kaidan stops him and calls a skycar to take them home, ignoring Shepard’s protests.

Shepard hides it from Kaidan’s parents, but after spending a few minutes hearing the latest about the horses and the orchard and a few mortifying stories of Kaidan as a toddler, he needs a hand to get up off the couch.

The real pain comes out when Kaidan closes the door to the bedroom and Shepard waits for his help to walk the couple of remaining feet between him and the bed.

“Why didn’t you say it was this bad?” Kaidan demands, angry at himself for being too swept up to see it, angrier at Shepard for doing this to himself in the first place.

Shepard winces as he sits down on the bed. “Easier to flirt with you when I’m not constantly grimacing.”

“Ah, so is that what this evening’s been about.”

“A long walk on the beach? Come on, Kaidan. I know this relationship is a cover but I didn’t think I was that rusty.”

Kaidan looks down at his wrist as he activates his omnitool and programs a medical scan. “Sounds like you need practice.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow. “Challenge accepted.”

“Sit still for half a second, will you?” Kaidan asks, ducking his head to hide a smile. This is the Shepard most people don’t see. The one who won’t come anywhere near a courtroom tomorrow. Because it’s not Shepard. Not really. This is…Sam.

_(No one calls me by my first name.)_

Not even Kaidan.

“Looks like there might be a microfracture in the joint. Dr. Chakwas is going to kill you for being so active when she told you to sit the hell down and let it heal. She’ll stick you under a bone knitter for days when she gets her hands on you.”

“She can’t have me. I’m yours, remember?”

“Stop it,” Kaidan mutters.

Shepard sobers a little. “Short term fix, then. To get through tomorrow.”

“You know medigel isn’t actually a solution to everything, right?”

“It’s a temporary solution to most things,” he points out.

“Not this one.”

“It’s medical super glue. Just super glue the damn bone.”

Kaidan raises an eyebrow. “You want me to inject super glue _into_ your body.”

Shepard grunts in annoyance. “Well then, medic. Impress me. What’s the alternative? And if you say bone knitter there will be no second date.”

Kaidan sighs. “Lucky for you, I know better than to leave the ship without a med kit, even when we’re in friendly territory.”

“Am I that hard on your sanity?” Shepard asks with a lopsided grin.

“Yes,” Kaidan replies, rooting through his duffle bag. There it is – medkit with a manual injector, two doses of medigel, morphine, tourniquet and a few other sundries. Including a dose of osseofiber. With Shepard you just never knew.

He holds up the drug pack. “Unlike medigel, this is actually meant to go _in_ your body. It’ll create a temporary osseo graft over the fracture to give it some stability. It’s a _patch_ ,” he warns. “Not a fix. And it’s laced with an anti-inflammatory, so it should help the swelling.”

“I knew deep down you really cared.”

Kaidan attaches the drug pack to the injector. Takes him a moment to remember how to do it manually. He’s used to loading it in a suit mexo. He links the injector to his omnitool and uploads the imaging data for Shepard’s hip to program the disbursement.

“Why did you insist on going out there tonight?” Kaidan asks.

“To clear my head for tomorrow,” Shepard says, hissing through his teeth when he shifts on the bed.

Kaidan gives him a baffled look.

“I’m tough on your sanity, but you’re good for mine. Guess that makes me the selfish one.”

Kaidan hands him the injector, flush creeping up the back of his neck. Shepard takes it, stares at it, then hands it back. “Need you to do it.”

“Why?”

Shepard holds up his hand. It trembles.

Kaidan laughs, opens the medkit back up and tosses him a juice packet and an energy bar. Shepard scowls. “Somehow I get the feeling you packed that thing _explicitly_ for me.”

“I did.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Do you want the patch or not?”

Shepard grunts and undoes his belt. “You’re putting me in a compromising position here.”

“I promise not to take advantage.”

“Too bad.”

The smirk on Shepard’s face is enough to make Kaidan’s hands shake. He swears under his breath and checks the dosage again. When he looks back, Shepard’s on his side, left hip facing up, pants shoved down far enough to give Kaidan the access he needs. He deliberately avoids the places his eyes want to go, forcing himself to focus on the hip.

The skin is a mottled mass of black and blue fading into yellow where the bruising is trying to heal. For a moment all Kaidan sees is the beam that had pinned him to the floor of the Citadel chambers.

He can still picture Shepard’s medical feed in his HUD. Remembers every number, from blood pressure to heart rate. Shepard had been so pale.

_I’ll go find help_ , Garrus had said. As though he’d known Kaidan couldn’t leave.

“Seems to me like you’re taking advantage,” Shepard says, eyeing him with a smirk.

Kaidan shakes his head a little, gingerly touching the healing skin with his fingers. Shepard jumps.

“Hold still.”

“Sorry. It’s tender.”

Kaidan dispenses the injector and jerks his hand away like he’s burned it. “Don’t do that again,” he murmurs.

“What, go for a scenic walk with you?” Shepard tugs his pants back into place, face contorting as he stretches the hip. “Is my company that terrible?”

“No. Don’t get killed by a madman channeling a genocidal AI.” Kaidan shoves the empty cartridge and injector back in the kit with more force than is necessary. When he looks up, Shepard is watching him.

“I didn’t,” Shepard says. “Kaidan, I’m right here. Thanks to you.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan says, then huffs. “And still a pain in the ass.”

“Ok, now I’m getting mixed messages.” Shepard sits up and puts his feet on the floor. Kaidan offers a hand to help him to his feet. He puts weight on the hip, then nods in satisfaction.

“Better?” Kaidan asks.

“Good enough.”

“Great. Now stay the hell off it and drink your damn juice.”

“Yes, sir.” Shepard gives him a mock salute.

Kaidan strips out of his own shirt and finds a clean one to sleep in. It’s after midnight, and it’s only now starting to hit how exhausted he is. His turn on the witness stand feels like years ago, and it was only a few hours.

When they both settle under the covers – after Kaidan untwists and remakes them – Shepard pulls out a datapad. Kaidan tries to sort through a few of his own reports that have been piling up since their arrival, but he keeps nodding off after a few sentences. Besides, after the events of today he finds it hard to give a shit.

“You should get some sleep,” Kaidan advises him when he gives up and finally turns off the light. “You’ve got a hell of a day tomorrow.”

“Got some numbers to go over first,” he says absently.

Kaidan rolls onto his shoulder, facing Shepard, and pulls the covers up to his chin.

Shepard glances away from the datapad. The glow from it illuminates the smile on his face. “Still going to dance with you tomorrow. Fuck the hip. And the court martial. I’ll bully Command into dropping the charges. Abuse of power won’t hurt anything.”

“Why?” Kaidan mumbles, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Got nothing to prove, other than being a shitty dancer.”

“Not trying to prove anything. I’m motivated purely by spite. Guard your toes, Lieutenant.”

“Mmph.” Kaidan closes his eyes. “I’ll be ready.”

“Bet you will. Good night, Kaidan.”

“Good night, Sam.”

Kaidan’s asleep almost before Shepard’s name is out of his mouth. Later he’s not sure if he even said it out loud, or merely dreamed it. Shepard certainly doesn’t say anything about it in the morning.

But despite how quickly he falls asleep, he doesn’t stay that way. He tosses and turns throughout the night, catching the glow of Shepard’s datapad each time he wakes up. _Say something_ , he thinks once or twice, but his brain is too groggy to turn his thoughts into action. Instead he dozes again.

Once, he could swear he feels Shepard’s thumb brush his forehead, followed by a brief, feather touch of fingers through his hair.

But he’s pretty sure he dreamed that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Hi, I have a lot of emotions about this chapter.


	9. Carry Your Torches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Butcher of Torfan makes an appearance. The past catches up to Kaidan. Shepard cleans up nice.

_Bring on your bows and arrows_   
_Bring on your plagues and pharaohs_   
_‘Cause if you get lost in the shadows_   
_There's a fire inside you_   
_And you know that I'll find you_

[x](https://open.spotify.com/track/1p9mCPuPV9FGa0jnJYk0IA?si=K9FH2r62SD2V4aqT_NoGow)

**Carry Your Torches**

Lora Alenko marvels at the difference in the man who just last night had laid himself bare in her living room to the one who now strides out of Kaidan’s bedroom. This morning, she understands why they call Shepard the Butcher of Torfan.

His eyes are sharp, calculating. He carries himself differently. When he walks there’s no trace of the limp – he cuts through the room like a missile locked onto a target. He says little, and when he does it’s curt, formal.

When he offers her a greeting, he doesn’t look _at_ her. He looks _through_ her, and it sends a shiver down her spine. He’d once sent nearly three hundred soldiers to their deaths, and she believes it.

Shepard had defied orders, stolen a military ship and stopped an invasion of ancient machines bent on genocide. And today he’s going up in front of the Alliance to answer for it.

She pities the Alliance.

Even Kaidan gives him a wide berth. There is no warmth between them this morning. Shepard is a commanding officer and Kaidan’s waiting for orders. The lack of a weapon in either of their hands means nothing. It’s her first hard look at why, perhaps, they’ve refused to see or act on what’s right in front of them.

Neither she nor Marc say much to either of them before they leave. Once the door closes behind them she goes to the balcony and watches until they exit the building and wait for a skycar.

“Hey, you,” Marc says, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist. “Looks like rain.”

Grey, heavy clouds sit out over the bay, rolling slow and steady towards the shore. Hopefully it will hold off until after the gala.

“Do you worry about them?” she asks, trapping his arms around her.

“You know that I do.”

“I just want them to be happy.”

“Think that’s up to them.”

Her brow furrows. In the end, he’s probably right. But maybe she can help.

~

Joker pushes around the remaining eggs on his plate. Real, honest to god eggs from a live chicken. To go along with the bacon that at one point had actually oinked. There are a few benefits to being planetside.

The waiter comes back to check on them one more time. This is the third morning in a row he and Tali have come to this place for breakfast. It’s above their paygrade, much like the bar from their first night, but that’s going to be Shepard’s problem. Joker’s charging every meal to the ship, and no one’s questioned it so far. In fact virtually everyone in the restaurant, regardless of rank, has been casting awed glances their way and whispering. Having a little celebrity is kind of nice.

Of course, not being on trial would be better.

“Is there really a trial in book four?” he asks Tali.

She nods. “Yep. They accuse Astra of treason. I think it’s a plot between the turian and the salarian councilor. Kela has to use all her former contacts from the Citadel to expose the conspiracy and come to her rescue.”

He scowls. “So here’s a question for you. Are we _living_ a series of romance novels right now, or is there just a romance novel for any given situation you can think of?”

She tilts her head. “The answer to both of your questions is yes.”

“Of course it is.”

“Speaking of which.” She leans in conspiratorially. “I need to go to the gala venue early to set up a few…things.”

“Yes,” Joker mutters, slouching in his chair. “Anti-romance countermeasures because you somehow managed to let it slip to Kaidan’s mom that his relationship is fake and convinced her to help us – _you_ , I mean help _you –_ stage an intervention. I remember.”

“Want to come?”

He heaves a sigh. “Yes.”

“Excellent!”

“By the way, should I be alarmed that I had a suit delivered to my door?” he asks. “A suit that fits? How did she get my suit size?”

“Just wear the suit and enjoy it, Joker.”

“I am not living a romance novel,” he informs her. “My romance would take place on the _Normandy_.”

“Your romance would _be_ the _Normandy_.”

“I’m okay with that.”

Joker takes one last dig at his eggs. They need to get moving soon. Shepard’s due on the stand in thirty minutes, and he wants a good seat. At the back. Out of range.

He’s pretty sure Shepard’s going to walk in weapons hot. And his figurative brand of ammunition is just as lethal as the shotgun he’s so fond of.

A man clears his throat to Joker’s left. He expects some jumpy officer, or worse a pissy Admiral. But instead it’s just an older guy wearing a guest badge.

“Excuse me,” the man says. He clasps his hands behind his back, then changes his mind and clasps them in front. Joker has never seen someone wear an actual bolo tie in person.

“Can we help you?” Tali asks. “Well, more likely can Lt. Moreau help you. I am obviously not in the Alliance.”

While his voice has a pleasant drawl to it, the man’s smile has seen some shit. It looks held together with wire and duct tape. “I’m not looking for help. Not really, I guess. I was looking for Commander Shepard or Lieutenant Alenko. Some folks in the lobby suggested I might find them here. Pardon the assumption, but my guess is you’re crew.”

Joker’s eyes narrow a little. This guy doesn’t strike him as a Conrad Verner, but most people are more subtle than good ol’ Conrad. And someone asking for Alenko is new.

“You’re right, but they’re not here. Not likely they’ll make an appearance before Shepard takes the stand.”

The man nods. “Was afraid of that, but had to try. Can I trouble either of you for a favor?”

Joker shifts in his chair. “Maybe.”

The man chortles a little. “Understand your skepticism, son. Don’t worry. If I show tonight I’ll tell them myself. But if I’m not up for it, hoping you’ll tell them Harold Beaudoin sends his regards, and thanks them for all they’ve done.”

“Uh…sure.”

Harold nods, tipping his fingers as though they’re an invisible hat. “My thanks. Enjoy your breakfast.”

Real bacon. Joker had definitely enjoyed his breakfast. Now to go watch Shepard carve the Alliance up like a Christmas ham.

~

Kaidan’s never been much for the Christian Bible, but Shepard walks through Command like Moses parting the Red Sea. Two rear admirals are among those who step out of his way as he approaches the courtroom. When the doors open and he glides through a hush falls over the room. He looks at no one, stops for no one, just strides to the front of the room. No trace of a limp. If it costs him, no one will see it until later.

The lieutenant who swears him in stutters. Shepard doesn’t spare him so much as a glance. That lieutenant will probably never forget this moment for the rest of his life, but Shepard has already forgotten he exists before he sits down.

Kaidan takes the seat Joker has been saving for him at the back. Liara and Tali sit on the other side of him.

“Holy fuck,” Joker murmurs. “I’ve never seen it up close like this.”

It’s not something you forget. The first time Kaidan had gotten a good look at the Butcher was on Sharjila. Before that mission he’d managed to convince himself Shepard’s reputation was an exaggeration based on grains of truth. A bogeyman that suited the Alliance’s purposes.

He’d been wrong.

The Shepard who’d gone to Sharjila hadn’t even blinked when Dahlia Dantius had blown the airlock on her hostages, exposing them to 39 unforgiving atmospheres of pressure.

Shepard had never talked about what happened on Torfan, and Kaidan knew better than to ask. But that was before Presrop. Before coming face to face with Major Kyle in the flesh and seeing how the expression of Shepard’s former CO changed at the sight of him.

_You_ , he’d said. _You put a gun to my head once. Have you come to finish it?_

Kaidan knew Shepard had relieved Kyle of command. That much had been in the reports and the newsfeeds. But there had never been mention of a gun.

_Go on,_ Shepard had said later. _Ask. I know you need to._

_Did you threaten to kill your commanding officer?_

There had been something cold, dead in Shepard’s eyes when he’d answered, as though he’d needed the Butcher to say it. _Our intel was wrong. The forces they had packed in those tunnels was probably triple what we planned for. Only way to get in was to offer up our front lines to total slaughter. Major Kyle didn’t want to do it. They were his men. He was godfather to someone’s kids, best man at someone’s wedding._

_I relieved him of duty. Took over command. But when I made the call to push onward and stick to the plan, he got in the way. So I put a pistol to his head. And if he hadn’t stood down I would have had to decide whether or not to blow his brains out in front of our whole unit._

Kaidan didn’t ask if Shepard would have pulled the trigger. Some things he doesn’t need to know.

There’s a fresh Admiral on deck handling questioning today. An older woman named Wynn, posture molded from concrete and stark white hair pulled back into a bun that somehow gives the impression of sharp edges.

Beside him, Joker fiddles with his omnitool, then jabs Kaidan with an elbow. Kaidan gives him a dirty look.

“She presided over the Torfan inquest,” Joker hisses.

A troubled expression passes over Kaidan’s face. That could either be a good thing or a bad thing. Nothing he can do about it now but watch and see.

Just before the questioning starts, the doors open one more time. Admiral Hackett enters the room and stands against the wall, ramrod straight, hands clasped behind his back.

Wynn starts with discovering the geth on Eden Prime. Shepard’s salient gaze follows her as she moves around at the front of the courtroom with an intensity that makes even Kaidan uncomfortable, but the rest of him is unnervingly relaxed. Shepard has always been maddeningly comfortable in his own skin.

Every answer Shepard gives is sharp, crisp, edged with steel. But the longer the questioning goes, the darker his expression turns. Wynn won’t let go of the geth, like a dog with her teeth on a bone.

In the middle of a question, Shepard interrupts her. Holds up a hand to cut her off in mid-sentence. To Kaidan’s shock, the Admiral actually defers to him, like a junior officer responding to an order out of reflex.

“The geth isn’t what you want to ask me about.”

“I beg your pardon, Commander?” Wynn clasps her hands behind her back.

“What you want to know about is the beacon.”

Wynn’s eyes narrow. “What I would like to know is where you got the audacity to think a vision somehow qualified you to be the first human Spectre.”

“Torfan qualified me to be a Spectre, Admiral. But you already know that rather well.”

Joker stirs next to Kaidan. “Damn,” he says under his breath.

“What I saw in the beacon wasn’t a vision,” Shepard continues. “It was a warning.”

“A warning Dr. T’Soni was very reluctant to describe,” Wynn says with a scowl.

“She was reluctant to describe irrelevant details.”

“Captain Anderson did not believe they were irrelevant. In fact, he rushed you to the Citadel to meet with the Council.”

“We thought they might want to know their top agent had gone rogue,” Shepard replies, expression hard but otherwise neutral.

“What did the beacon show you, Commander? What did you _see?_ ”

For just a moment, Shepard’s eyes flick towards the crowd.

No. Not the crowd. To _Kaidan_.

In the space of an eyeblink Shepard trains his full attention back on Wynn. Next to Joker, Liara shifts restlessly in her seat.

“I saw the apocalypse, Admiral. It was unpleasant. Enough so that I thought it was worth risking my life and my sanity to re-wire my own brain with a cipher we pried out of an ancient alien entity. Enough that when we found a second beacon I sacrificed the lives of a full team of salarian STG and one of my own crew to use it.”

“Some might call that reckless,” Wynn says.

“They would have lost.”

“Commander—”

“Admiral, we are not safe. You insist on railroading me into a narrative that paints the geth as the main threat. That is a lie. One that could cost billions of lives if you insist on hiding behind it.”

“I will remind you—”

Kaidan knows the look on Shepard’s face. The cold glint in his eye. If Wynn had been part of the Torfan inquest, he bets she knows it, too.

“Sovereign was a vanguard,” Shepard says. “We are _not_ safe.”

“If the reaper threat is as grave as you insist,” Wynn says, “by protecting the _Destiny Ascension_ we have significantly weakened our position.”

Shepard’s piercing gaze holds her for several long seconds before he answers. “Between the turians and the Fifth Fleet, we lost twenty-eight cruisers and nearly ten thousand people against one reaper. Give up the _Ascension_ , that number’s twenty thousand. Do you want to know what happens when they return in force?”

“We don’t know if they even exist,” Wynn replies, unmoved. “Both beacons are destroyed. The VI you claim to have spoken to on Ilos is dormant. The dreadnought is destroyed. All of your so-called evidence doesn’t exist outside the circumstantial.”

Shepard tilts his head, almost curiously. “I was chosen by the Council to be made the first human Spectre. The Alliance – in agreement with the Council – gave me command of the _Normandy_ to chase down Saren and bring him to justice. I did what was asked of me. Even when my own military refused to help. You could court martial me for it. But you won’t. The same as you won’t punish any of my crew for following my orders. Because you need us. I have numbers. You won’t like them.”

He pulls out a datapad and tosses it to Wynn. To her credit, she catches it.

“Sovereign said the reapers were legion. ‘Our numbers will darken the skies,’ it said. It had no reason to lie. In previous cycles their method of attack was to take the Citadel, destroy the seat of galactic government and take over access to the mass relay network. Unable to unite and mobilize, no previous cycle was able to overcome that first death blow. Until us. Because of that beacon warning, we have. But now that means we don’t know where they’ll strike first.”

Kaidan leans forward in his seat. Outside of two nights ago when he’d found Shepard pacing in the courtyard, ranting about how they were all fucked, Shepard hadn’t said a word about what Hackett’s team of analysts had come up with.

“They built the relay network,” Shepard continues. “Assuming they won’t find their way into it is willful negligence. Best case scenario, they choose a relay in the terminus systems. That would at least buy us some extra time. They’d have to go through the turians and asari, even the krogan before they’d get around to Sol. We might have a chance to evacuate Earth. Decentralize. It’ll at least take longer to wipe us out. But I’ve never been one for the best-case scenario, as you are very well acquainted, Admiral Wynn.”

_The extinction of an entire species is a long, slow process_ , Vigil had said. A shudder runs down Kaidan’s spine. If the best-case scenario is hiding, Shepard is right. They’re fucked.

Wynn’s lips press into a thin, white line. But she doesn’t stop him. Maybe, Kaidan thinks, she actually wants to hear it.

Shepard shifts in his seat. His eyes are no longer on Wynn. Now he’s talking to a silent room. “Worst case scenario is they come out of dark space from a relay on the outskirts of the galaxy. The Viper Nebula is one jump from Charon. That makes Earth their first target.”

Shepard looks at each Admiral sitting in the front row. “How many ships are in the Fourth Fleet protecting Earth, Admirals? A handful of cruisers? A few frigates? Why would we need more? We have the First, Third and Fifth Fleets parked at Arcturus, ready to go anywhere we need. But the first thing the reapers will do is destroy the comm buoys. If we get a message to Arcturus at all, it’ll be too late. The Fourth Fleet will be wiped off the map under assault from even a dozen reapers, not to mention the hundreds or even thousands that will probably come through that relay.

“You’ll call for the remaining Alliance fleets to come to Earth’s aid, if you can get a message through. But the best decision Admiral Hackett could make is to order them to retreat and regroup. Earth will be left defenseless. Your own analysts are projecting the dead on the first day to be around twenty million, escalating to one hundred million within a week. We’ll appeal to the Council for aid. Do you know what they’ll say?”

Kaidan’s got a damned good idea.

“They’ll deny our request. Protecting Earth is in no one’s best interests. Not even humanity’s. We’ve lost the war before it even began.” He looks back out across the courtroom. Kaidan could swear he makes eye contact with everyone in the room. “Eleven billion human lives will be a bulwark for the rest of the galaxy to regroup and try to make a stand. What a noble sacrifice that will be.”

Murmurs fill the room. Shepard ignores them.

“We’re facing extinction. Stopping it isn’t a matter of having enough guns. We have to work together. I gave us a chance. What are you going to do with it?”

“Thank you, Commander,” Wynn says at last.

In the back of the room, Admiral Hackett wears a grim smile.

~

Hours later when it finally ends, Shepard is escorted out by three officers. There’s no hope of following him, so Kaidan takes a deep breath and goes to find some air.

When he gets to the ground floor and makes his way outside, he’s greeted by a damp blast of wind. No rain yet, but the sky is steel grey and heavy with it. He tilts his head back, the cool air a welcome feeling. _We’ll find a way to keep the reapers off our doorstep if they want another shot at it,_ Shepard had said, just three days ago. So sure and confident. Kaidan had believed him.

Eleven billion people. Earth would be a lost cause before they even knew they were under attack. _What a noble sacrifice that will be_.

An ancient redwood tree marks the center of the compound, towering nearly as tall as the surrounding buildings. Kaidan heads towards it laying a palm flat against the bark.

What hope do they have? What hope do they _really_ have?

A biotic field intersects with his, but it’s not Shepard.

“That was…a grim assessment,” Liara says, coming up beside him.

Kaidan forces a laugh. “Which part? The part where we run and hide, and just survive as long we can? Or the part where we all die in the first wave without so much as a chance to call for help?”

“No future with the reapers will end well. For any of us,” she says.

“Yeah,” Kaidan says after a moment. “You’re right.”

“He did well today,” she offers, as if it’s a consolation.

Kaidan huffs. “He always does.”

A bemused look passes across Liara’s face. “Not _always_. I can think of a few instances in which shouting everyone down did not exactly aid our cause.”

He chuckles in spite of himself. “True.” He exhales again, leans his back against the tree and looks up. No other planet he’s seen in all their travels has trees like this.

“You are worried about him.”

“Of course I am. He’s one person. The only person, it seems, who can get us through this. But how in the hell can anyone ask him to do it?”

“No one has to ask him,” she says.

She’s right. He’ll just…do it. No matter what it costs him. Kaidan’s fists clench. “That’s the worst part. We keep expecting him to save us. And the crazy thing is…he keeps doing it. And we _let_ him. Hand him the torch, tell him to go light the way. Because he can take it, right? He’s fine. He’s always fine. He’s _not_ always fine, Liara. But we’re so good at telling ourselves otherwise we actually believe it.”

“He does not carry that torch alone, Kaidan,” Liara tells him. “I would like to think we each bring our own to the fight, and make his light all the brighter.”

He exhales and meets her gaze. “Yeah, I suppose we do. And I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. I’m sure you know even better than I do what he goes through.”

“I would not say better. My perspective is unique, perhaps. It is…a difficult position to be in.”

How much did she see in her melds with Shepard? The closeness, the trust, that had developed between them as a result is impossible to miss. Jealousy isn’t a color Kaidan enjoys wearing, but he can’t deny he feels it.

_(What I saw in the beacon wasn’t a vision. It was a warning.)_

_(A warning Dr. T’Soni was very reluctant to describe.)_

_(She was reluctant to describe irrelevant details.)_

A knot forms in his stomach. “Liara, what did he see in the beacon?”

Surprise crosses her face. “Kaidan—”

“When they asked him about it he looked right at _me_. What isn’t he telling me? Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

She opens and closes her mouth, distress plain on her alien features. “Kaidan, I cannot, and _will_ not, betray his trust. Please do not ask me.”

He runs his fingers over his scalp. “Yeah. Ok. I’m sorry.”

“You care for him very deeply, don’t you?”

He throws a hand up in exasperation and begins to pace. “Yes. Ok? To hell with it. I do. By all means, share your expert opinion on it.”

“Kaidan,” she says, voice soft but kind.

He stops.

“This has not been an easy week for you, has it?”

He puts a hand to his forehead. “No,” he admits.

“Well then. My ‘expert opinion’ is that you should do your best to enjoy tonight.”

The gala. He’d almost completely forgotten. He exhales. “Not sure I’m up for a party after today.”

Liara puts a hand on his arm. “He needs you to be. I cannot tell you what you want to know. It is not mine to tell. But I will say that the last thing he should do tonight is dwell on the events of today. Besides,” she says, mouth curling in a smile. “Tali would be devastated.”

Kaidan groans. “What is she doing? What are we in for?”

“Believe it or not, I believe she truly does have your best interests at heart. For whatever that is worth.”

“It’s worth a lot,” Kaidan says with a smile.

This time they both turn their heads as a third biotic field approaches. Shepard strides towards them, gait still fluid and free, arms loose, chin low, expression closed. There aren’t many other people outside in the chill damp air, but those who are stop and stare.

Shepard nods at Liara, then turns his attention to Kaidan. “Let’s get out of here.”

~

When they find a skycar, Shepard settles back into his seat and exhales slowly. The Butcher is gone. The performance is done. Now all that’s left is Shepard.

They say little on the ride home. Shepard’s shield emitters are still up, safety off with a finger on the trigger. Doesn’t matter how long they’ve been friends, some things Kaidan just knows not to get in the way of.

The condo is silent and empty when they reach it. Shepard goes straight for the bedroom and disappears into the bathroom, followed by the sound of the shower. A garment bag hangs on the inside of the door with a note from his mother.

_K: For you. We’re at the venue finishing set up. Can’t wait to see you. PS – found a package in the closet. It came for you after you’d been assigned to the_ Normandy _. Was afraid it wouldn’t catch up to you, so I held onto it, then forgot I had it. Left it on your bed. Love, M._

Kaidan frowns, looks, and spots a small parcel on the bed. He picks it up, turns it over in his hands. Whatever it is, it came from the Alliance. Their postage symbol is all over it. When he finally finds the return label his stomach drops.

_Pendergrass, K._

He sits down heavily on the bed and opens it up. Inside is a piece of folded cloth. His heart sinks as he lifts it out.

It had started with the first poker game they’d played on the _‘Yang_. For the first few weeks of the tour Shepard had done nothing but bark orders at the marine detail. It hadn’t taken long for an undercurrent of resentment to start up, especially after a corporal took a batarian flechette to the chest during their first combat drop and eventually cat sixed. Beaudoin had been the first to say it out loud.

_How’s it feel to be cannon fodder for the Butcher of Torfan?_

They didn’t believe he had their backs. Didn’t believe he would protect them out in the field. So Kaidan had set up the poker game and somehow convinced Shepard to join. Shepard might have the upper hand on him in a fight, but poker was Kaidan’s arena, and Shepard had been a surprisingly easy mark. The end result was a table full of marines who got to see their XO lose at something, and even crack a smile about it. _Overconfidence will knock you on your ass_ , Shepard had admitted.

A week later, someone had cross stitched the quote in fancy script, complete with a flower and a butterfly, and hung it in the _‘Yang’s_ mess. The poker game became a weekly ritual, and Pendergrass – the cross stitch culprit – took it upon herself to memorialize them in the form of carefully embroidered patterns and sayings. Eventually she’d taught Beaudoin, Aslany, and even Festivo, the ship’s pilot, who sometimes took part. The mess had been covered with them by the time Kaidan and Shepard got their transfer orders.

The one now in his hands is a bumblebee wearing an eye patch, surrounded by tiny hearts and the words “Karma Pirate.”

He remembers that one. Beaudoin had gotten shot by a vorcha after running his mouth about how they couldn’t aim. Kaidan had called the vorcha a karma pirate during the next game, and they’d given Beaudoin hell about it for months.

There’s a note with it.

_Wanted you to have a piece of her to take with ya. - KP_

Kaidan’s hand shakes as he puts the embroidered cloth back in the box.

_(everyone is dead and I don’t know what to do)_

He grips the back of his neck with one hand, fingers tracing the small port for his amp. He draws in a shallow breath and exhales. Then pushes to his feet and shoves the box in his duffle bag.

Steam wafts through the partially cracked open bathroom door. The shower is running, but the even splash of water suggests no one’s in it.

“Shepard?”

“Mmm.”

Kaidan nudges the door a little and finds Shepard sitting fully dressed on the floor, back against the tub, eyes closed.

“You ok?” Kaidan asks, trying to hide his alarm.

Shepard cracks one eye open. “Yeah. Just…needed a minute.”

Kaidan pushes the door open and edges past his outstretched legs, then sits down beside him. Steam from the unused shower billows through the room. Kaidan reaches up to shut it off. His hand shakes when he lowers his arm, so he drops it into his lap out of sight. For a few minutes they just sit.

Where does he keep it? Kaidan wonders. Where does he put the persona of the Butcher when he doesn’t need it? The sheer act of putting it on and taking it off always exhausts Shepard right down to the bone, leaving him hollow and used up.

Kaidan has often wondered what he’d be like, what he’d _really_ be like, had he not been the XO that day on Torfan. Had he just been allowed to be who he is, rather than what others need him to be.

But selfishly, he’s thankful not to know. Because it might mean not knowing Shepard at all, and that’s not a life he wants to think about.

“Do you think it’ll always be like this?” Shepard asks.

_(he does not carry that torch alone)_

“I’m going to believe that it won’t be,” Kaidan says.

Shepard props an elbow on his knee and rests his forehead in his hand. “Believe it or not, I think Wynn is actually on our side. As much as she can be.”

“Then your intuition is a hell of a lot better than mine.” Kaidan shifts, trying to get comfortable, shake the tightness in his chest.

“She sent me a letter after the Torfan inquest,” Shepard explains. “It was…surprisingly supportive. I bet the fleet she’d let me go off script. Glad she did. Maybe something’ll come of it, though I’m not gonna hold my breath.”

“We’ll find a way, Shepard.” Kaidan draws his knees to his chest and runs his fingers through his hair.

Shepard drops his hand and looks up. “You all right?”

Kaidan chuckles. “After everything they just put you through today, you’re asking me if I’m all right.”

Shepard shrugs. “Yeah.”

“You’re one hell of a human being, Shepard.”

He grunts in distaste. “Not you, too, with the hero shit.”

“Hey,” Kaidan says, a little wounded. “Take the compliment, you ass. Should mean more coming from me instead of some lackey like Conrad Verner.”

“It does,” Shepard says after a moment. He cracks a small smile. “You ready for tonight?”

Kaidan considers the question. “Not sure if I’m qualified to be the arm candy of the Savior of the Citadel.”

Shepard snorts. “First, that name’ll never stick. Second, I’d love for someone to call you arm candy to my face and see how that works out for them.”

“Defending my honor?” Kaidan asks with a chuckle.

Shepard pauses, face contorting a little. “Yeah. I guess.”

Kaidan uses the wall for balance as he hoists himself to his feet. He gets halfway there before losing momentum and nearly coming back down. Shepard braces Kaidan’s thigh with his hand. “Easy, marine. Gonna make it?”

“Hope so,” he says with a grimace, trying in vain to divert his focus from Shepard’s hand. “Seems like ever since the Citadel I’m starting to feel more and more of those little aches and pains you don’t think about when you’re twenty.”

“Is this where I get to make an old man joke?”

“No.” He offers his hand to Shepard, who grabs it as leverage to get himself up off the floor. Kaidan pulls a little harder than he intends, and Shepard winds up colliding with his chest. There’s a momentary scramble of hands to keep them both from hitting the deck in a heap. Kaidan’s lands on Shepard’s forearm, Shepard’s on Kaidan’s lower back. Kaidan’s grip tightens to help steady them both.

“Trying to make a point?” Shepard asks, close enough Kaidan can feel his breath ghosting his cheek.

Fuck, his lips are so close.

“Maybe,” Kaidan manages.

The corner of Shepard’s mouth turns up in a grin and Kaidan’s heart nearly stops.

“Guess I should finish getting ready,” Shepard says.

Kaidan lets go, still trying to breathe, especially when Shepard’s hand lingers half a second longer against his back. “Yeah, we’re already fashionably late as it is. Would hate to reach unfashionably late territory.”

Shepard makes a sound of agreement and switches on the shower again. Kaidan makes his exit, having to still his shaking hands in order to work the buttons on his suit once he gets it on. Navy, pinstripe, with white trim around the cuffs and the collar. It fits perfectly. That’s what he gets for leaving a set of dress blues hanging in his closet where his mother can find them.

He catches sight of his duffel bag out of the corner of his eye. Kaidan bites his lip and shoves it in the closet, out of sight.

He’s checking his cufflinks when Shepard emerges from the shower, wearing a towel and not much else. Kaidan’s stomach does a somersault.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring before noticing Shepard is _also_ staring.

“You clean up nice, Lieutenant,” Shepard says after a long pause. “Might have to rethink the arm candy.”

“So much for my honor, huh?” Kaidan manages to say without sounding like he’s out of breath. “I’ll, uh, let you get dressed.” He heads for the bedroom door, using every ounce of willpower he’s got not to look over his shoulder to see if maybe, just maybe, Shepard is still watching him.

When Shepard emerges, Kaidan swallows. The sight of him in a civilian suit is almost more than he can take. His mother had chosen charcoal grey, subtle stripe of crimson down the right sleeve as a nod to his N7 designation.

“Your mother has good taste,” Shepard says. Kaidan’s not sure if he means his own suit or Kaidan’s, but he’s not going to ask.

“Yeah.”

Shepard starts towards the door but pulls up short, curious look on his face. “Hey, what was the box on the bed?”

“Nothing,” Kaidan says, too quickly. “Nothing important, anyway.”

Shepard scrutinizes him for a moment, but lets it go. He gestures towards the door. “Shall we?”

Kaidan takes a deep breath, shoves his still trembling hands in his pockets, and follows him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: GALA.


	10. Unsteady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gala chapter. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's [Merrin's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrin/pseuds/merrin) birthday today and this is her story, have the chapter a day early!

_If you love me, don't let go_  
_Hold, hold on, hold on to me_  
_'Cause I'm a little unsteady_

x

**** **Unsteady**

Tali cranes her head, gazing at the banquet hall Mrs. Alenko had described as a “venue.”

It’s _beautiful_.

And _big_. The only space on the _Rayya_ that comes close is the garden plaza, and it could fit _inside_ this room. Everywhere she looks she finds more displays of elegant opulence, from the chandeliers to the drapes to the high arches ceilings. The precious metals in the filigree patterns alone would be far too valuable as raw goods for repairs and ship functions to ever dream of using them for decor.

With this kind of space on the flotilla they could make so many strides with agriculture.

And the _food_. The guests have not even arrived yet and food is _everywhere_ , carried on uncovered platters by servers wearing ornate uniforms. The sheer volume of it could feed an entire ship. Even when Captain Kar'Danna oversees public gatherings, either the guest list is short or the menu is small. They simply cannot afford such lavish displays, nor would any time or effort be spent making it look _pretty_. Food on the flotilla is meant to make nutrient intake as efficient as possible. The morsels on these trays are too stunning to eat.

On the stage at the front of the ballroom, a live band tunes instruments she’s never seen before.Quarians tend to favor woodwind and stringed instruments. While there are strings involved on the stage, the sound they make is overpowering. Tali can’t imagine needing an even _bigger_ space for music, but a reverberating _boom_ from a canvas-strung cylinder makes the cavernous space feel small. She turns down the sensitivity of her external audio pickups.

To distract from the music, she fantasizes about the clothes she’ll see. Flowing dresses, colors, accessories that sparkle. As she waits for her new security script to load on her omnitool – she’s nicknamed it Love Bot – she fingers the scarf that Mrs. Alenko had given her. Purple with gold trim, a perfect match to her suit. It takes the sting out of not being able to wear a gown of her own.

Once the script is ready she links into a backdoor in the building’s security network and uploads it. It had been disappointingly easy to do. Not everything can be as challenging as hacking into a geth gestalt, but she can hope.

Beside her, Joker leans his head back against the wall and sighs. “You know, somehow I thought espionage would be more exciting than this.”

The sight of him in something other than an Alliance jumpsuit makes him look even more alien than usual. He keeps fussing with his sleeves and adjusting the collar, but when he leaves it alone and stops thinking about the fact he’s wearing it, it doesn’t look half bad. Except for the shoes. He’d refused to put on the dress shoes that went with it and is still wearing Alliance boots, claiming they’re more comfortable with the leg braces.

“Do you have the scrambler I asked for?” Tali asks.

He holds up the tiny device and waves it back and forth.

“Great. I’m going to need to install it near the main entrance.”

“What does this thing do, exactly?”

“It’ll create a fence around the venue that interferes with outgoing communications,” Tali replies.

Joker chews his lip. “Uh. Is that…safe? In case of emergency?”

“Joker. Do you really think I’m sloppy enough that I wouldn’t teach my programs to understand the difference between regular and emergency channels? I promise, if the building catches on fire we’ll be able to call for help.”

She’s got it nearly installed, just to the inside of the expansive, double doors that open into an anteroom outside the ballroom, when Mrs. Alenko finds them. She looks radiant - her navy blue dress is accentuated by a cape embroidered with a tapestry of constellations. When she walks it shimmers.

It’s _beautiful._

Mrs. Alenko glances around with a nervous look in her eyes.

“Is it all ready?”

A green light blinks on the scrambler. “Yep,” Tali says. “Scrambler is online to take care of comms. The program I created to interfere with imaging and recordings is loaded into the security network, and will infect the omnitool of anyone it scans. Which means everyone who comes in.”

“What about the staff?”

Tali waves her omnitool. “I’m on it. I can run it remotely on any stragglers.”

Mrs. Alenko chews her lip. “And it’s all…benign?”

Her concern is touching. Tali has spent too much time around Shepard, whose concern with legalities starts and ends with ‘will it make this thing stop bothering me.’

“All it will do is…very conveniently overwrite any audio or video recordings anyone might try to make tonight,” Tali assures her.

“Tali rewrote a geth colossus,” Joker says. “If she says it’s good, you’re good.”

Mrs. Alenko nods, winding her finger up in her cape. Not likely she knows what a geth colossus is, but Joker’s confidence made it sound pretty impressive, at least. “Ok,” she says, without much certainty. “And you think all of this…” she gestures around the room, “will work?”

Joker jerks a thumb in Tali’s direction. “She’s the romance expert.”

Tali hums. “I think what the two of them need is a chance to just spend time around each other without the galaxy falling on their heads. The inquest is over. Everyone here will be having a good time. What you’re giving them is a refuge to do that. It’s very sweet of you.”

Mrs. Alenko smiles weakly.

“We just need to make sure they dance,” Tali says, tapping her helmet.

“Easy,” Joker says.

“Oh?”

Joker shrugs. “It’s _Shepard_. His competitive streak is bigger than Sovereign. Worst comes to worst, just bet him he won’t do it. He’ll be out there on the dancefloor before you can blink.”

Mrs. Alenko stifles a laugh.

A well-dressed gentleman pokes his head around the corner from the ballroom. “Hey, you.”

Tali looks at him in confusion, until she realizes he’s speaking to Mrs. Alenko.

“Everything good in the kitchen?” she asks.

He nods. Now that Tali is looking, she can see how clearly he resembles Kaidan. Cheekbones. Jawline. His thick mop of hair. Even the way they tilt their head is similar. “Band is all set, too. Ready to unlock the doors whenever you are.”

Mr. Alenko acknowledges both Joker and Tali. Joker, to her surprise, salutes. Mr. Alenko returns it with a crisp nod.

Strains of music filter into the anteroom from the stage. Tali peers out the glass doors and up at the sky. Thick and leaden with clouds, but the ground remains dry. She sighs.

“What’s the matter?” Joker asks.

“Just hoping for rain.”

In the meantime, she’ll settle for some fancy dresses.

~

Lora Alenko smiles and laughs in the right places, pats Albert Vennebaum on the shoulder, then excuses herself to take Marc’s waiting arm.

“Hey, you,” she says in a low voice as they stroll away towards the next group of people she owes a greeting to. “Perfection as usual.”

Over the years he’s mastered the art of timing – showing up at exactly the right moment to liberate her from whatever knot of people she’s become entangled with. Being a hostess is exhausting. She is already looking forward to kicking off her heels and curling up in the recliner in a pair of sweatpants with a cup of tea.

“How is your favorite elderly bachelor?” Marc asks.

“I appealed to his patriotic duty, and he’s bidding full bore on the Ilium resort package,” she replies, waving at Sonya and Aadesh Sundaram. She makes a mental note to circle back to them at some point during the evening. “He only hit on me twice.”

“Losing your touch.”

She makes a wounded sound. He chuckles.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Lora. Even the band sounds good.”

“I worked hard on the band,” she confirms, but flushes with pleasure. The ballroom swells with sound, from the drums to the constant hum of conversation, laughter, clink of glasses. It’s not her most impressive event, not with the short amount of time she had to put it together, but it’s certainly come together better than she expected. From what she can tell, most of the bigger players she expected to show have arrived. However the guests of honor have yet to make their appearance.

A disproportionately high number of people keep looking towards the entrance, waiting for the Hero of the Citadel to arrive. Lora, for her part, is more anxious to see her son. In their absence however, it’s easy to figure out where the representatives of Shepard’s crew are located. The crowds are thickest around Ms. Zorah, Lieutenant Moreau and Dr. T’Soni.

The feel of Marc’s hand at the small of her back still makes her a little weak at the knees, even after all these years. “Think they’ll be here soon?” she asks.

“From what Lt. Moreau said, Shepard was on the stand all day. Give them some time. As much as I’d prefer they just stay home and avoid the scrutiny all together.”

She sighs. The compulsion to tell Marc what she knows is right on the tip of her tongue. Keeping him in the dark is not part of their usual playbook. But he’d use the opportunity to talk Kaidan into leaving things as they are. And maybe in some ways, he’d be right. But…not in others.

So many of Kaidan’s choices in life got taken away with the biotics. He deserves a shot at this one.

“It looks like Dr. T’Soni could use some rescuing,” Marc says, nodding towards a growing cluster of people who have hemmed the asari into a corner near the bar. Even if she were not a blue alien, her dress alone would still garner attention. Her exquisite slim, plum colored gown has an extraordinary number of gold straps, which she wears with the confidence of someone who knows how to work a room.

“On it,” Lora says, turning loose of her husband and heading into battle. She’s no soldier, but she’s a ruthless veteran when it comes to social combat. She cuts through the throng of people with a polite but firm smile. All it takes to bully to the front of the line is projecting enough unearned confidence that everyone assumes it’s where she belongs.

“Dr. T’Soni,” she says graciously. “I’m so sorry to intrude. There is someone I need to introduce you to.”

The asari tilts her head, recognizing a rescue when she sees one. “Certainly. If you will excuse me.” She offers her admirers a placating smile that only further proves Lora’s hypothesis.

“Thank you,” the doctor murmurs.

“My pleasure. Do you need a drink?”

Relief crosses her features. “That was my original plan.”

Lora waves Marc over to them. “Would you be so kind as to get Dr. T’Soni a…”

“Martini,” she supplies. “And please, call me Liara.”

Marc nods, with even more charm than usual, and makes his way to the bar.

“You have been to events like this before,” Lora says.

Liara nods. Lora has never met an asari, and has no way to know if the quiet, unshakable poise Liara exudes is tied to her species or merely who she is.

“My mother was a prominent matriarch,” Liara says. “Elaborate gatherings were an unavoidable part of my youth. You cannot help but pick a few things up.”

Lora freezes. The matriarch. Of course. The one who had worked with Saren.

“Do not worry,” Liara says with the weariness of someone who has repeated it a thousand times. “As I have assured the Alliance, I do not share my mother’s loyalties.”

“No,” Lora says, heart twisting. “That wasn’t—I’m sorry. I cannot imagine what you’ve been through.”

She tilts her head, surprised. “Thank you.”

Before either of them can say more, a hush falls over the ballroom. The song the band had been playing either ends or is cut short, and everyone’s attention shifts to the entrance.

“Ah,” Liara says with a faint smile. “There he is.”

The way Shepard glides into the ballroom - smooth, effortless and with no sign of a limp - you’d never guess he couldn’t dance. If what she’d seen this morning was the Butcher of Torfan, the man here now is the embodiment of Commander Shepard, Savior of the Citadel. The contrast between the two is enough to give her whiplash. Instead of the lancing gaze there’s an enigmatic glint in his eyes, and he wears a smile on his face that’s for everyone but himself.

Neither incarnation betrays a trace of the Sam who’d stood in her living room last night.

It doesn’t take long for the guests to flock to him. He takes it in stride, expects it even, stopping to shake hands, nod, listen with interest.

With a start she realizes that even she has been so transfixed by his presence she hasn’t yet seen Kaidan. She finally spots him still near the entrance, hanging back and watching Shepard with an amused smile. She excuses herself from Liara.

“Hey,” Kaidan says when he sees her approaching.

“Glad you made it,” she says, giving him a hug.

He nods. It’s stiff, like his clothes have too much starch, but she chalks it up to the suit. He’s never relished formalwear. It’s too bad. She’s always been a sucker for Marc in black tie, and Kaidan looks so much like him.

“This looks great, Mom. You outdid yourself.”

“Think I did good all around,” she says, patting his chest.

“You look amazing,” he concurs.

“I was talking about Sam.” She nods in Shepard’s direction, and Kaidan actually blushes a little.

“Uh…yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

She grins and takes his arm. “Spare a dance with your mother before I lose you to the crowd?”

He nods graciously and escorts her onto the dance floor. “Don’t think you’ll have to worry. Pretty sure everyone will be preoccupied with the Savior of the Citadel tonight.”

She clucks her tongue as he puts a hand on her waist and starts moving them with the music. It’s a pleasant ballad, something she doesn’t know, but it’s easy to sway to. “Did my son not help him save that Citadel?”

His laugh is forced. There’s a tightness to the corner of his eyes that’s out of place. Her first instinct is to ask if he’s all right, but for once she swallows it back. Instead she indicates Shepard, who stands a few meters away listening intently to a woman in an emerald colored dress telling an emphatic story that she is certain he isn’t interested in.

“I didn’t expect him to be so charismatic with this crowd.”

“It’ll be short lived,” Kaidan says. “He can pull it off for a little while, but eventually he’ll need backup. Right now he’s muddling through by imagining all the different ways he could take down everyone in front of him using only what he has within arm’s reach.”

She blinks in surprise. “Really?”

“Ask him. He’ll reel it off for you. Guarantee it.”

“You know him very well, don’t you?” she asks with a smile.

“Yeah,” he says after a pause. “I do.”

“Kaidan,” she says, hesitantly. “I just want you to know…all I want is for you to be happy. Whatever that means.”

He tilts his head, quizzical. “I…thanks, Mom. What makes you say that?”

She lets go of his shoulder to cup his cheek. “Because I know things have never been easy between you and me. And I wish it wasn’t that way. And because I don’t say it enough.”

The song ends in favor of something with a quicker tempo. She lets him go. “You should go rescue him. See if he wants to dance.”

That crooked smile of his. “Not sure that’ll be on the agenda tonight, but he probably does need rescuing. We’ll talk later. Okay?”

She nods, and shoos him off. He looks a little pale, and that tightness is dug in at the corner of his eyes. A migraine sure would be bad timing tonight.

_Let it go, Lora. Marc’s right. It’s not yours to fix._ Besides, she needs to find Marc and go chat up Mr. Tabak to see if she can convince him to bid on the five-star meal at Kitanos. That one would be right up his alley.

~

There is one place to sit in this entire ballroom – a stool beside one of the high-top tables along the back perimeter – and Joker’s staked a claim to it. Mrs. Alenko had seen to its existence without him having to ask, which makes her all right in his book. Seems the knack for intuiting other’s needs is indeed an ingrained Alenko trait.

It’s a safe way for him to technically be present, but still not have to actually engage with a room full of people he doesn’t care about. There are more well-dressed people in this one room than Joker has seen in his entire lifetime. It should be his worst nightmare, but he’s actually having fun. Turns out Tali has an exceptional gift for making unbearable social occasions bearable.

“And what about her?” Joker asks, pointing to a woman who looks like a canary covered in taffeta.

Tali leans against the table beside him and tilts her head, the purple and black sequined scarf that Mrs. Alenko had given her for the evening catching in the bright lights of the ballroom. “Hmmm. A widower. Discovered her husband of more than thirty years had gambled away their entire fortune, leaving her penniless. She is here to mourn—not him, but his brother. The man she was truly in love with. She thought he did not love her back, but the truth is that he was too afraid to tell her. After his brother’s death, he swore he would, but he went down with the _Cairo_ before he had the chance.”

“Damn, Tali, that’s _dark_ ,” Joker says with a chuckle. “You got a happy one? How about that guy?” He points to a random stranger who’s sipping a glass of wine and laughing too hard.

She swirls the liquid in her glass. Forget the geth. This is where she really shines.

“He professed his love to…” she scans the room. Eventually she points at another well-dressed man, who looks absolutely no different from any of the rest as far as Joker is concerned. “That man over there. They are desperately in love, but he,” she points again at the new guy, “is afraid of his feelings. He has a dark past, and doesn’t want to drag his true love down with his demons.”

_“Happy_ , Tali. I was looking for happy.”

She raises her glass. “A few spins on the dancefloor and he’s going to realize that pushing him away will only snap them back together. Like quarks.”

Joker clinks his glass against hers. “That’s my girl. I knew if I stuck close to you this whole affair would be a little less heinous. I’m definitely having more fun than _they_ are.” He jabs a thumb in Shepard’s direction. Their gallant commander stands a few meters away, arms crossed and a thin smile on his lips. His latest admirers are an older couple who keep trying to shake his hand. Alenko is stuck two groups of people over from him; every time he tries to get close to Shepard someone else gets in the way.

Tali follows his gaze and sighs. “At this rate, they won’t get to spend five minutes with each other.”

Someone takes a photo with Shepard, who gives the camera more of a grimace than a smile. Tali huffs with pride.

“What a shame that photo won’t turn out.”

“You’re kind of evil,” Joker says. “I did not know that about you.”

Liara manages to shake herself free from her latest waylayers and now heads towards them, sipping a martini. Seeing her in something that doesn’t make her look like a scientist is weird. Not unpleasant, but. _Weird_.

“Why are you both still sitting here?” she asks.

He taps the crutches leaning against their table. “I have the perfect built in excuse not to lurch around and pretend I like people.”

Liara rolls her eyes – Joker wonders for a moment if she ever rolled her eyes _before_ showing up on the _Normandy_ , because she doesn’t seem the type – and looks expectantly at Tali.

“We don’t have these kinds of soirees in the flotilla,” Tali protests. “And my father largely kept me away from the more…political social gatherings to ensure no one ever accused him of nepotism. I don’t really know the rules of these things.”

“How are _you_ so good at this?” Joker asks. “I thought you preferred dead people.”

Liara takes a deep sip of the martini. “I am the daughter of one of the most esteemed matriarchs in asari society. Preferring dead people does not mean I am not adept with live ones.”

Joker’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Liara...I’ve seen you get flustered over a pun. This is a room full of complete strangers.”

“Who will not live long enough to hold it over my head if I make a mistake,” she says with a shrug. “If I make a social or political mistake with my people, chances are I will live with it for hundreds of years. Here I have nothing to lose.”

Joker and Tali exchange glances.

“Learning this mindset is freeing,” Liara affirms. “You should try it.”

“Try what, dying?” Joker says with a snort.

“Will anyone in this room ever matter to you again?” she asks.

“...no,” Joker says.

“Then have a little fun.”

“You know,” Tali says, and Joker can hear the idea forming in her tone. “We could actually use your help. We need to arrange an extraction.” She nods towards Shepard and Alenko.

Liara exhales. “I still do not understand why you will not let them determine what they want on their own.”

“Because they’re lousy at it,” Joker supplies.

“More romantic this way,” Tali adds.

Liara makes a resigned sound in her throat. “I will…take advantage of an opportunity if one presents itself.”

Joker offers a fist to Tali, who bumps it with hers.

“However you will not accomplish much sitting over here,” Liara informs them, and then saunters back towards the music and dancing.

Tali makes an interested sound. “Joker, what if we take a different approach to this game?”

“Like what?” he asks warily.

“Come with me.” She hands him his crutches, waits until he’s secure on his feet and then leads him into the throng of guests.

~

Kaidan wipes his brow, then digs out another smile as a woman wearing a black gown with an alarming slit up the thigh taps him on the shoulder. She asks him the same questions everyone else has for the last hour. _What was the battle like, did you know any of the casualties, what’s it like to serve with Commander Shepard?_ He gives her the same canned answers as he has all the rest.

“It’s so generous of you to be here, raising money for them,” she says with a smile he doesn’t trust the intentions of.

It doesn’t feel generous. It feels like celebrating the deaths of people he cared about. But his mother had found him just twenty minutes ago and informed him they’re pulling in bids on the charity auction at nearly twice her initial projections. So apparently some good is coming out of it.

“I...it’s the least I can do,” he says.

She puts a hand on his arm. He shifts uncomfortably. “Would you be able to introduce me to him?”

“To?”

“Commander Shepard!”

He straightens, unease flaring into hope. He’s been trying to infiltrate the ever-shifting circle of people following Shepard around for half the night, and now he might just have the cover he needs to bulldoze his way in.

“It would be my pleasure,” he says, offering her his arm. She gladly takes it, and he weaves through the crowd, pushing his way politely through until he reaches the center. Shepard holds a drink in one hand, whiskey by the looks of it. The relief in his eyes brings an unbidden smile to Kaidan’s lips.

Fuck, Shepard looks good in a suit.

“Commander,” Kaidan says. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” He looks at the woman on his arm, then goes blank. Had she told him her name? Shit, he doesn’t think he’d even asked for it.

She flashes a radiant smile. “Commander, what a pleasure. My name is Alta Duvernay. My mother is CEO of ExSolar Shipping.

Shepard glances at Kaidan with an odd look on his face before shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you. ExSolar Shipping sounds familiar.”

“I believe you had an encounter with one of our ships. The _Cornucopia._ ”

Kaidan startles. Shepard merely nods, as if the ‘encounter’ was nothing more than a simple inspection and not a husk-infected nightmare that had ended with a piece of shrapnel in Kaidan’s left arm.

“I’m sorry we weren’t able to help the crew,” he says. “But I’m glad we could bring closure to their families.”

“My thanks is what brought me here. My family will be making a donation to the charity auction.” She leans in, out of earshot of the two gentlemen Shepard had been speaking with before being interrupted. “I was hoping we might discuss it further.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow. “If you’d like to set something up, you should check with Lieutenant Moreau over there. He manages my schedule.”

Kaidan coughs into the back of his hand. Alta looks over her shoulder at Joker, who makes a sweeping gesture with one arm as Tali holds his crutch steady. He’s attracted his own crowd of people, and they all look riveted.

Alta backs away, chin low, expression cool. “I’ll have to do that.”

Shepard bids her farewell, then returns his attention to the now-three gentlemen waiting for his attention. “If you’ll please excuse me, my lieutenant here has a mission update I need to hear.”

He puts a hand on Kaidan’s shoulder and steers him towards the far corner of the ballroom, waylaying the first server he sees and snatching an hors d'oeuvre off the platter without looking to see what it is. “Make it look important,” he mutters under his breath. Kaidan pulls out a serious face, bends his head in what he hopes is a conspiratorial fashion and whispers back.

“I hear the salmon tartare is excellent.”

Shepard snorts, then reforms his stony countenance that has a one hundred percent success rate at repelling unwanted conversation. Already two people have tried to approach and then changed their minds.

It’s a little quieter over here at least, and a little less stuffy. Kaidan tugs at his collar, glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone else is coming.

“Haven’t been a very good date tonight,” Shepard says, smirk hinting at the corner of his mouth.

“Much to the relief of my father,” Kaidan replies.

Shepard scowls at the hors d'oeuvre in his hand, then tries to tuck the whiskey glass in his elbow. Kaidan automatically reaches out to take it so Shepard can eat. It probably doesn’t even hit his taste buds on the way down.

“Still owe you a dance at some point,” he says as Kaidan hands him back his whiskey.

“Much to the relief of my mother. If she had her way you’d be mine all night.” The flush builds before the words are even out of his mouth.

“Her gala, her rules,” Shepard says with an amused smile.

“Don’t worry, Shepard. Between your hip and all these people, you’re safe. I can just imagine what Wynn or Hackett might do if they saw footage of us on a dancefloor.”

Something flickers past Shepard’s face before his expression closes off again. “Suit yourself. But if that woman comes back I expect you to take one for the team.”

“Yes, sir,” Kaidan replies, shifting his weight. It’s so damn hot in here. “Got your six.”

“You all right?” Shepard asks with a frown.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Shepard scrutinizes him, but eventually relaxes. “Hey, I learned something new about the Battle of the Citadel.”

“Oh?”

“Did you know that Joker saved my life by killing Saren with the _Normandy’s_ gun while he had me in a chokehold? It’s supposedly the most amazing shot in the history of space warfare.”

“Well,” Kaidan says with a chuckle. “Sounds like we should be thankful we have such a great pilot.”

“Maybe I’ll just let him do all the schmoozing for the rest of the night.”

“While we sneak out the back.”

Shepard cocks his head and grins. “I like the way you think.”

Kaidan swallows. For a moment they just stare at each other.

“I gotta get back out there,” Shepard says at last.

“Yeah. I need a drink. Want another one?”

“Sure,” Shepard says.

Kaidan casts one glance over his shoulder as he walks away, but Shepard’s already been waylaid by another couple. He looks around for the closest bar. He definitely needs a drink.

~

It has been such a long time since Liara has been to an event like this. This human version of a gala is less extravagant, less _expansive_ than what she is accustomed to on Thessia, but other hallmarks - the gossip, the haughty looks, the polite double speak, is a familiar language.

As much as she dreaded these events when she was younger, she’s enjoying herself rather thoroughly this evening. Perhaps it’s the lack of politicking to navigate. For once she does not have to keep millenia-old conflicts front of mind, nor fear a faux pas that will haunt her for another eight hundred years. There is nothing at stake for her here. She is not Alliance. While she grieves for the Alliance dead as much as she does the other lives lost to Sovereign, she does not get the sense that the people here are grieving. They do not seem to think any of it is real. She doubts few, if any of the people here, are connected to those who lost loved ones. Likely they have not really lost anyone at all.

It’s a fascinating social experiment, and she takes full advantage of it.

Several of the humans here are quite accomplished dancers. Others…are not. In addition to the rumors and gossip she’s been gathering throughout the night, she’s been closely following how quickly and invasively Tali and Joker’s accounts of the battle have spread throughout the guests. She’s heard four variations of Joker’s side, and six of Tali’s. Liara’s favorite is the one where Tali offered herself as sacrifice to Sovereign to save her beloved – Garrus – and was able to channel the essence of Saren through the VI in her suit long enough for Shepard to finish him off.

Out of the corner of her eye she spots Shepard, who signals her with a quick wave of his arm. He’s surrounded by three couples with no way out, a silent scream behind his eyes.

She strides into the group, head held high, hand outstretched.

“Commander, you have broken asari custom,” she says in disapproval. “This late in the evening and we have not danced?”

The eyes of every one of his attentive guests grow wide as saucers. Shepard bows, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “My apologies, Doctor. I hope you will excuse me – the asari councilor on the Citadel will have my head if I don’t make this right.”

Liara’s lips curve in a smile. The small crowd parts, providing him an escape route. She glides away from them, delicately clasping Shepard’s hand. The band starts a fresh song with a mild tempo. Shepard puts a hand on her hip and begins to sway.

“Not bad,” she says. “I’m almost impressed.”

“Well, almost is something, I guess. Thanks for the save.”

“I cannot stand to see you suffer so.” She thinks about Tali’s plea. “However, I am not the one you should be dancing with.”

“Not you, too,” Shepard says with a scowl.

She still does not think it is wise to interfere. But the wine is good, the evening is enjoyable, and she’s read more of _Forbidden Ops_ than she cares to admit. It turns out she might have more of a romantic side than she thought.

“Perhaps if you are receiving the same advice from people you trust, it is worth listening to.”

“I can’t,” he protests. “Even if I wanted to. This place is crawling with people shooting vids and taking photos, and we’re a stone’s throw from Command. Word’ll get out, and on top of an inquest it won’t end well. I’m not going to do that to him.”

“But would you?” she asks. “Were it not for those constraints?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then makes a disgruntled sound. “You’re a pain in the ass sometimes, T’Soni.”

“You have not answered the question.”

“Captain’s prerogative,” Shepard replies.

“That might deter Tali, or Joker, but it does not deter me. Also, you are not a captain.”

“Which brings us right back to you being a pain in the ass.”

“A skill I learned from you,” she says politely.

They dance through the end of the song, at which point Liara steps away from him. “You should speak to Tali. I think your fears for the evening are unfounded.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I mean she has worked hard to protect you both from scrutiny. You should ask her about it, then do as you will.”

“You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” he asks, but she detects signs of a smile.

“No,” she answers.

“Okay,” he says with a sigh. “But if you don’t stick around as my escort I’ll never get to her.”

“Deal.” She loops her arm through his and scans the crowd for a purple cowl. Eventually they find Tali and Joker resting on their laurels at their table in the back. Joker sits on the stool, and there is a pile of hors d'oeuvres between them on two plates.

Tali rests the chin of her helmet in her hands. “This entire plate is for _me_ ,” she says dreamily when they get to the table. “And do you see these gowns? Liara, they’re _stunning_.” She toys with her scarf.

“Earth fashion does…shimmer a great deal,” Liara replies.

“Where’s Kaidan?” Joker asks.

Shepard gives Liara a sidelong glance. “Last I saw him was about an hour ago. He was trying to get a drink.”

Liara clears her throat, and Shepard sighs in exasperation. “Tali, Liara insists that if I dance with Kaidan he won’t get drummed out of the service. I only have two questions. Is this true, and if it is, should I be prepared to bail you out of a cell?”

“Yes to the first, no to the second.”

Shepard pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “If I had any idea what a mess this whole thing was going to be I never would have done it.”

“Shepard,” Tali says, and puts a hand on his arm. “You never do anything without conviction.”

He eyes her.

“It’s _safe_ ,” she insists. “Go dance with him.”

“Where is he?”

Joker points. “Is that him over there?”

They all swivel their heads. Kaidan stands with an older gentlemen on the other side of the ballroom close to one of the bars. Liara frowns. The unfamiliar human blocks most of her view of Kaidan, but even so something about him seems…off. She can’t quite put her finger on it.

But Shepard can. Beside her, his body tightens up like a coiled spring. If he had a side arm, he likely would have drawn it.

“Hey,” Joker says. “Tali, is that the guy we saw at breakfast this morning?”

“Hm,” Tali says with a tilt of her head. “I think you’re right.”

“What guy?” Shepard demands.

Joker shrugs. “He found us this morning at a restaurant. Asked to see you or Kaidan. Seemed like he knew you.”

“What was his name?”

“Bow….something?”

Shepard’s fingers curl against the surface of the table. “Beaudoin?”

“That might be right?”

Shepard strides towards Kaidan without a backwards glance.

~

It’s been over an hour since Kaidan set his sights on the bar, and he still hasn’t gotten there yet. Nothing about this evening has gone quite like he imagined, though he’s not really sure what he was actually expecting. To keep up the ruse? Be swept off his feet by Shepard in the middle of a crowd?

Stupid.

The music is too loud. Everyone around him seems to be having a good time, but all of Kaidan’s nerves feel like a rubber band pulled to the point of snapping. At least he’d managed to scrounge a napkin from one of the servers to keep the sweat off his brow.

“Lieutenant.”

So close. He’d almost made it to the bar this time. Kaidan stops and turns to find an older gentleman standing behind him. He looks hauntingly familiar, but Kaidan is almost certain they’ve never met.

“Sir?” he says automatically. There’s no indication this man ever served, but the use of Kaidan’s rank triggers the response like a reflex.

“I’m sorry,” the gentleman says. His features are friendly, but his smile has a melancholy twist to it. “I’m sure you’re busy this evening. But I wanted to introduce myself while I had the chance. My name is Harold Beaudoin. I believe you know – knew – my son.”

The blood in Kaidan’s veins freezes. Of course. Of _course_ he looks familiar. He’s a mirror image of Corporal Clay Beaudoin, or what Clay might have looked like in another forty or fifty years. Except Clay isn’t getting another thirty years. He’s dead. Adrift somewhere among the swirling gases of the Serpent Nebula, along with the debris of the _Myeongnyang._

“Yes,” Kaidan replies, forcing the words out. His fingers twitch. “Of course. I knew your son well. He was an excellent soldier.”

Harold smiles, the grief in his eyes fresh and sharp. “He spoke of you often. Many of you. Shepard, of course. Captain Oseguera. Gunny Aslany, Corporal Pendergrass. But you in particular. He looked up to you a great deal. I’m honored to have the chance to meet you.”

Kaidan takes his outstretched hand and shakes it. His heart rate picks up, beating so loud in his chest he can hardly hear over it. “No. The honor is mine. Clay and I spent almost five years together. He saved my life on a number of occasions.”

“That sounds like him. He always wanted to help.”

“I’m…so sorry for your loss.” Kaidan tries to swallow but can’t.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” Harold admits. “I wasn’t going to come tonight. I’m only in Vancouver because some of the paperwork was just easier to do in person. But I heard about this from an acquaintance, and when I realized I might get to thank someone for all they had done for him…I couldn’t pass it up. Clay would have hated it if I’d turned down a chance to go out and have a good time on his account.”

Kaidan manages a strangled sound that approaches a laugh. It’s true. Beaudoin had been an outgoing extrovert stuck with a bunch of introverts on the _‘Yang._ Pendergrass had once threatened to shove a grenade down his pants if he kept trying to drag her to parties whenever they docked at Arcturus. Kaidan had always wondered if he’d had a thing for Pendergrass.

He’d never know.

“Anyway,” Harold says. “I won’t keep you. But thank you. I know you saved his life on Sharjila, among other times I’m sure. He was the kind of kid who was always happy. Military can drum that out of a person, but thanks to people like you, it didn’t happen to Clay. My wife and I won’t forget that.”

Kaidan nods, unable to form words even if he knew what to say.

“Stay safe, Lieutenant Alenko.”

Harold Beaudoin walks away. The music grows louder in Kaidan’s ears, too loud, _deafeningly_ loud. To make things worse it’s _sweltering_ in here _._ He tries to shrug out of the suit jacket before he smothers but his fingers won’t work the buttons. When he inhales the air rattles in his lungs, like pulling air through a straw with a hole in it.

The room spins a little. Kaidan throws out a hand to steady himself, but there’s nothing to steady himself on. The shriek and pound of music loses the individual notes, dissolving into a roar of white noise behind the rapid thud of his heart.

_No air_ , he thinks desperately as he tries to pull in a breath. _There’s no air_.

Blackness looms on his periphery. He takes a step. He has no idea what he’s stepping towards, but he’s got to go somewhere. _There's no air here_.

One hand clutches against his chest, the other still looking for something to grasp onto.

_No air, no air no air—_

His biotic field sends a shiver down his skin as it interacts with another, flooding his nerves with a familiar warmth. Fingers thread his outstretched hand, followed by the gentle, steady pressure of a hand on his lower back.

“Kaidan.”

Kaidan grips Shepard’s hand, his other finding purchase against Shepard’s back in a desperate search for balance.

“Kaidan. Right here. Look at me, Lieutenant.”

The use of his rank kicks Kaidan’s brain into gear, punching through some of the fog. He locks eyes with Shepard’s steady gaze.

“Breathe, Kaidan.”

He tries to comply, dimly aware that Shepard’s feet are moving. Shuffling. Giving him little choice but to shuffle along with him. Panic claws at his throat. He doesn’t know where to go, doesn’t know how to get there, doesn’t-

“Focus,” Shepard says, firm but gentle, eyes never leaving Kaidan’s face. “Right here. On me. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

He tries, he _tries_ , but it’s just a wheeze because there’s no air. Just his racing pulse, trembling hands and closed lungs.

“Hey.” Shepard tightens his grip on Kaidan’s hand, then pulls it in and places it on his own chest. “Feel that?” Shepard’s chest rises and falls, sure and steady under Kaidan’s palm. Kaidan jerks his chin in a nod. Shepard nods back. “We’ll do it together, okay? When I breathe, you breathe. Focus on me.”

Shepard’s ribs expand as he inhales. Kaidan forces his lungs to do the same. He manages a shaky breath.

“That’s it,” Shepard says. “Let it out. Do it again. Follow me.”

Now Shepard exhales, rib cage deflating. Kaidan does, too. Even under Shepard’s warm grip his hand shakes, hell, all of him is shaking and he can’t make it _stop_.

“Stay with me, Kaidan,” Shepard says gently, hand tightening against the small of Kaidan’s back and pulling him fractionally closer. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. Just keep breathing.”

Kaidan closes his eyes. Doesn’t think about his feet. Just focuses on the rise and fall of Shepard’s chest. Rhythmic. Even. Each time he brings in a little more air. Each time the race of his heart slows a little.

“I’ve got you,” Shepard repeats.

Minutes tick past. Kaidan loses count of how many. There’s just the breath in Shepard’s chest, the breath in Kaidan’s lungs. When he finally opens his eyes again, Shepard’s gaze remains, steady, sure.

“Better?”

Kaidan nods, not quite trusting himself to speak.

Shepard leans in a little closer. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours all night, remember?”

Another shaky exhale.

They continue for a while longer, Shepard holding him and Kaidan holding on. Eventually his senses return enough to notice they’re still swaying. The music doesn’t sound as loud.

“Told you I owed you a dance,” Shepard says.

Kaidan huffs. “Not even stepping on my toes. I’m impressed.”

Shepard’s laugh rumbles under Kaidan’s hand. “Best I could do on short notice. Your mother is a sucker for hard luck cases.”

Kaidan swallows his own laugh, fingers curling into Shepard’s back. “Did she teach you a few tricks?”

“Couldn’t embarrass you out here.”

Kaidan closes his eyes again. The shaking has almost stopped. He focuses on Shepard’s heartbeat, strong and steady beneath his hand. “Little did you know it would be the other way around.”

“No chance. You’re pretty light on your feet for someone having a panic attack. Don’t think anyone’s the wiser.”

“How did you know?”

The corners of Shepard’s eyes crinkle in a smile that’s as pure and genuine as anything Kaidan’s ever seen. “Are you kidding? I’ve been watching your back for five years. I know when you’re in trouble.”

Kaidan swallows. Shepard’s smile only deepens.

One more breath. One more exhale. His feet feel steadier. His hands feel steadier. _He_ feels steadier.

_Take your time. I’m yours all night_.

It’s selfish. But Kaidan doesn’t let go, and Shepard doesn’t ask him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know those scenes you get in your head? The ones where you think, "that needs to exist, how can I make that exist?" This is one of those scenes. :)


	11. Last Ones Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali’s on the lookout for rain. Lora Alenko is officially the _Normandy’s_ mom. And ohhhh nooooo, there’s still only one bed…

_Find me when the party's over_  
_Ride home with your head on my shoulder_  
_Last night's in the rear view mirror_  
_Wake up and I'm still right here_

x

**Last Ones Dancing**

Liara watches Shepard guide Kaidan away from the dance floor towards the exit, one arm around his shoulders, eyes on him the entire way out. She takes one step towards them before Tali catches her by the wrist.

“Keelah, if you follow them out there so _help_ me.”

“I think something happened,” Liara argues.

Mrs. Alenko hurries over to them, dress swishing. “Did you see that?” she exclaims, beaming. Her smile fades when she catches sight of Liara’s frown. “What’s going on? Tali, did something go wrong with—”

“No,” Tali said, tapping her wrist. Her omnitool glows to life. “I’ve been monitoring everything. Liara is just a little overexcited about a guest.”

Liara scowls at Tali. Overexcited. She’s _positive_ something happened that went beyond a simple dance.

“A guest?” Mrs. Alenko says sharply. “What do you mean?”

Joker waves a hand, though he too looks uneasy. “There’s someone here both of them knew.”

“What did you say his name was again?” Liara asks, activating her own omnitool. She has a hunch, and begins running a search.

“Bow-something,” Joker replies. “Don’t ask me how to spell it.”

Liara’s stomach drops when she finds what she’s looking for. “Oh.”

“Oh _what?_ ” Tali demands.

“The casualty list. One of the names on it is Clay Beaudoin. Of the _Myeongnyang_.”

Mrs. Alenko pales. “Oh no.”

Liara chews on her lip, runs a few additional searches. “A gentleman named Harold Beaudoin was a registered guest at Alliance Command this morning. Looks like his father.”

Mr. Alenko joins them, smoothing a crease in his jacket. His brow furrows at their expressions, which only makes him look more like Kaidan. “Lora?” he asks, putting an arm around her.

“One of the guests tonight is a parent of someone on the _‘Yang_ ,” she says.

His head whips around, scanning the room. “They need a heads up.”

“Too late,” Joker echoes.

“Will everyone _please_ calm down,” Tali says. Each of them turns their attention to her. “They’re fine. Leave them alone. This is their _chance_. Let them have it.”

“What chance?” Mr. Alenko asks in confusion.

Mrs. Alenko places a hand on his chest, steering him firmly away from their crowded table. “I’ll explain later. We should find Mr. Beaudoin and express our condolences.”

Once they’re out of earshot, Tali rests her elbow on the table and props her chin in her hand. “Did you see Shepard’s smile while they were dancing?”

Liara shifts her weight. She’d seen it, too. She’s never seen Shepard smile like that before.

Tali checks her chronometer. “Is it raining yet?”

“Why are you so obsessed with rain all of the sudden?” Joker demands.

“Just…” She sighs. “Never mind.”

_Forbidden Ops,_ Liara thinks. Paris. She’d read that scene last night while falling asleep. Personally, she thinks a romantic confession in the rain just sounds…wet. But so long as she is not the one being rained on, she is forced to admit it’s a nice visual. Her omnitool is still out, so she checks. “It is not currently raining.”

“Dammit.” With a grumble, Tali moves away from the table.

“Where are you going?” Liara asks.

“Going to do one last sweep. Make sure no one escaped my countermeasures. Looks like things are winding down.”

~

Shepard finds a retaining wall on the side of the building that sits up on a hill. Kaidan follows him down to it through a grass lawn and takes a seat along the ledge. There’s a meter or more drop down to the ground. A thin fog drifts through the air. No sign of the moon. After the stuffy ballroom even the damp breeze feels good.

“Feeling better?” Shepard asks.

Kaidan nods. “Fresh air helps.”

The fog blurs the lights emanating from a line of skycars waiting in the alley across from them to take guests home, giving them an eerie glow. Shepard kicks his feet against the concrete wall. Kaidan leans back on his hands and digs his fingers through the grass and into the dirt. Somehow it’s reassuring. Grounding. And there’s no one around to see—

“Fuck,” he says.

Shepard jerks a little, already scanning for a threat. “What?”

“Everyone saw that. Didn’t they.”

“Kaidan, I told you, I doubt anyone noticed something—”

“No, saw _us_. Do you know how many cameras were in there?”

Shepard relaxes with a chuckle, resting his hands on his knees. He resumes kicking his feet.

“What’s so funny?” Kaidan demands.

“Don’t worry about the paparazzi. Tali took care of it.”

“I…what?”

Shepard gestures back to the venue behind them. “Tali and your mother have been conspiring half the week to lock down the gala. She fucked with comms, omnitools, the works. Every single photo we posed for – and all the ones we didn’t – got lost to a most unfortunate glitch. She’s already burned all the evidence.”

“Well. I’ll be damned.”

“She swears her methods won’t land her in prison, but I’ve got my Spectre badge ready and waiting just in case.”

Kaidan huffs, and they fall into a comfortable silence. Kaidan leans forward and shakes the dirt off his fingers before resting his hands in his lap. Shepard hasn’t asked for an explanation. But after all this he wants to give it. He exhales.

“Harold Beaudoin was here tonight. Clay’s father. That’s what set me off.”

Shepard bobs his head. “I know.”

“Wait, how—”

“Saw something wasn’t right. Our team works fast.”

“Great,” Kaidan mutters.

“Joker and Tali recognized him,” Shepard explains. “He stopped by their table at breakfast this morning looking for us. You’ve been off all night, so once I got the name out of them I figured you needed backup. That’s all.”

“How did you know I was off?” Kaidan asks in surprise. He’s not even sure _he’d_ realized how tight he’d been wound until he’d snapped.

“Because I _know_ you. That’s how.”

Kaidan stares down at his hands, picks at some of the dirt now under his fingernails.

“So what started it?” Shepard asks. “Something got you cooking.”

“The box,” Kaidan says after a moment.

“Had a feeling. What was in it?”

“It was from Pendergrass. She sent it a long time ago and it just never caught up with me. It was one of the cross-stich things. From the ‘ _Yang’s_ mess.”

Shepard whistles. “A perfectly Pendergrass thing to do, with epically terrible timing.”

“Which was a Beaudoin thing to do.”

Shepard grins. “Yeah. Fuck, that kid had some of the worst timing. Do you remember when he blew our cover on Chalkhos?”

“I was thinking about the laxative.”

Shepard throws back his head and laughs. “Right, for that jarhead who hated you. We never did figure out which of those shits actually gave him the laxative, but all of my credits – and I have a lot thanks to all those damn minerals – are on Beaudoin. Only he was oblivious enough to put that kind of target on his own ass.”

“It was Pendergrass’ idea,” Kaidan says fondly. “But yeah, Beaudoin apparently laid the charm on pretty thick to get it in the guy’s coffee.”

Shepard glances at him in surprise. “Wait, they ‘fessed to you?”

“Pendergrass had a few too many one night and let it slip,” he admits.

Shepard’s smile fades. “Have you messaged her yet?”

Kaidan shakes his head.

“You need to.”

“Yeah, okay, I know. This has just been…one hell of a week.” His shoulders hunch. “All of this has been so much harder than I thought it would be. The inquest. The gala. This.” He gestures between Shepard and himself. “I guess…I’m glad tomorrow it’ll all be over.”

“Yeah,” Shepard says, gazing back out at the street. “Status quo restored.”

The main doors open. A handful of guests begin filtering out, looking for skycars. Shepard starts to get to his feet, swears, and sits back down.

“Hip?” Kaidan asks.

“It’s fine.”

Kaidan chuckles, stands, and offers a hand to pull him up. “Forget the week, you’ve had a hell of a _day_ , haven’t you? Inquest. Put on public display. Have to rescue one of your crew off duty. In formalwear, no less. You must be exhausted.”

Shepard smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing exploded.”

“Night’s not over yet. Come on, Shepard. Let’s get you home.”

Except they’re not going home. Not yet. That happens tomorrow. Tie up a few loose ends, smile at a medal ceremony, and then it’s back to the _Normandy_. Back to the stars. Back to the mission. Back to the reality where the feel of Shepard’s arms and the steady thump of his heart under Kaidan’s hand don’t exist.

Status quo, just like Shepard had said.

~

Lora excuses herself from the obligatory goodbyes when Kaidan and Shepard slip back into the ballroom.

“There you are,” she says. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yes,” Kaidan assures her. She scrutinizes him carefully. The tightness at the corner of his eyes has eased, the starch in his posture largely faded. But he doesn’t look as…happy as she’d hoped. Shepard, either, though the commander hasn’t taken his eyes off of her son since they walked back in.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Kaidan, I had no idea Mr. Beaudoin would be here. I never would have sprung that on either of you.”

Kaidan’s smile is stiff, but still sincere. “Hell, he earned the right to come if he wanted to be here. I certainly owed it to him to talk to him if that’s what he wanted. It’s ok. Really. Nothing exploded and no one got shot. Better than things usually go for us.”

Shepard shrugs in agreement. That doesn’t exactly make her feel better.

“Your father and I spoke with him. He apparently came in with a friend who invited him. He was very gracious.”

“Probably where Clay got it from,” Kaidan says with a sad smile.

“Everything was excellent tonight,” Shepard tells her. “There are a lot of families out there like Beaudoin’s. They’re all grieving. They’ll appreciate what you’ve done for them tonight.”

She nods. Opens her arms to give them both a hug. Shepard looks bewildered by the gesture. _Have to fix that,_ she thinks. When she pulls away from Kaidan, his smile is a little softer.

“Dad and I will still be a while,” she says. “You should get out of here and go home. Can’t imagine how tired you are after today.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan says with a glance at Shepard. “I think we will.”

She pulls Kaidan down so she can kiss his forehead. “Get some rest. See you later. Your dad already ironed his old uniform for the medal ceremony tomorrow.”

The gala has largely let her put away her feelings of dread about the ceremony. Not for lack of pride. Tomorrow will be one of the only times she’ll be part of one of Kaidan’s remarkable achievements. It isn’t that. It’s the knowledge that when she and Marc leave the ceremony, they’ll come home alone. Kaidan will be gone again. And when she’ll see him next is anyone’s guess.

Kaidan bids her goodnight and follows Shepard towards Liara, Tali and Lieutenant Moreau to say their goodbyes. She watches them go, looking for anything to suggest something had changed. But there’s nothing. No held hands, no arm around each other.

Damn. She’d bought into Tali’s blind optimism even more than she’d realized. And why? Why is it so important to her that their relationship be real? Marc is right about everything – their careers and their lives will be so much simpler, so much easier, without that entanglement.

But maybe that’s why she wants it for them so badly. After forty years, Lora hates military nobleness. Their damned sense of honor and duty. All she ever cared about was whether or not Marc would come home in the end.

She _believes_ Shepard when he says he will always look out for Kaidan. But she wants more than that. She wants Shepard to feel like she had for so many years, only with the power to make sure Kaidan always walks through the door. She doesn’t care if it’s selfish or cruel to wish that uncertainty on anyone else.

Kaidan’s her _son_. She’ll be as selfish and cruel as she damn well pleases.

Across the room, Marc signals to her with a hint of desperation. Something to do with the band now disassembling on the stage.

She should be thankful that Marc always came home. That she’d never have to worry whether or not he will again.

She sighs, takes one more look at Kaidan, then goes back to work.

~

It feels like decades since Kaidan and Shepard had sat in a bar together and agreed over some ill-advised shots of whiskey that any of this would be a good idea. _It’ll be fine,_ Kaidan had thought. Looking back on it, the idea is so ludicrous he almost laughs out loud. _You’re not alone_ , he’d told Shepard. _So don’t_ feel _alone. Come home with me_.

Maybe Shepard had felt less alone. He hopes so. But on the ride home from the gala Kaidan feels more alone than he ever has in his life, even with Shepard sitting mere inches away.

Shepard’s arms around him. That smile on his lips. The hand trapping Kaidan’s to his chest. He tries to imagine what it will be like to leave those things behind when they go back to the _Normandy_.

Why. _Why_ did he do this?

It was so easy to cling to his moral and practical objections when he didn’t know what those things felt like. Now those arguments feel like little more than hollow protests. He’s tired of thinking about the consequences. And there would _be_ consequences. Maybe not today, even tomorrow. But someday, he has no doubt.

He’ll pay them.

But that’s not a decision he can make on his own. His gaze shifts to Shepard, who leans his elbow on the armrest of the skycar door and stares out the window as the dark scenery slides by, punctuated by streaks of light from still-lit windows of the stationary buildings.

_(he’s one person. the only person, it seems, who can get us through this. but how in the hell can anyone ask him to do it?)_

_(no one has to ask him)_

Shepard gives everything of himself. To everyone. Kaidan can’t be one more voice asking for more.

He thunks his head back against the headrest.

When they enter the condo, Kaidan flips a light on and immediately shrugs out of his suit jacket. Between the panic attack and being surrounded by people all night he’s sticky with dried sweat. By the time they get to the bedroom he’s shucked off everything but his undershirt and slacks.

“If I don’t clean up before getting in that bed you’ll throw me out of it,” he laments, sitting heavily on the mattress. “I’m not thorian levels of disgusting, but I’m getting there.”

“Charming,” Shepard says, hanging his suit coat on a hanger and putting it in the closet. There might be a hint of a smile in his voice. At this point Kaidan is too exhausted to be sure.

Kaidan tugs off the slacks, heaves back to his feet and heads for the bathroom and a hot shower. He stops at the doorway and looks back over his shoulder. Shepard sits on the bed facing the other direction, shoulders hunched, staring at the floor.

“Shepard.”

He turns his head.

“Thanks. For the save. For the dance. Weird of a day as it’s been…I had a good time.”

It’s true. He had. If only he hadn’t, this would be so much easier.

Shepard offers a half-hearted smile in response. He looks as exhausted as Kaidan feels.

When Kaidan comes out of the shower, the light in the bedroom is off. Shepard lies curled up in bed, blankets drawn around him in a heap, breathing deep and even. Kaidan climbs in beside him, gingerly finding his way under the covers. Fighting for enough of them to cover himself without disturbing Shepard is no small feat. In the process his fingers graze Shepard’s back, and it’s not entirely by accident.

He falls asleep watching him breathe.

~

It’s still dark with no sign of light creeping through the blinds when Kaidan wakes up. He blinks, unsure what’s brought him out of a dead sleep. Beside him, Shepard is a knot of warmth hidden under the covers. Kaidan shifts a little to ease some stiffness in his shoulder, discovers the sheet is wadded up by his ankle. He smiles a little. Even Shepard’s constant feud with blankets now feels routine. Comforting, even.

Without warning, the gravity well lurches. Shepard thrashes violently, corona firing to life and liming his body in blue. Kaidan throws a hand out to steady him, heart rate shooting to the stratosphere. Shepard deflects him, hard, before crying out and bolting upright, one word on his lips.

“ _Kaidan!_ ”

Shepard’s fist clenches, sheathed in a gauntlet of dark energy. His chest heaves, sweat beading at his brow, eyes wide open but unseeing.

Kaidan reaches for him on instinct, fighting back alarm and shunting all thoughts to the sideline but one. _Interrupt the mnemonic!_

He grabs Shepard’s energy-wreathed wrist, forcing it to an awkward angle. The sizzle of their intersecting fields sends an electric shock up his arm. Shepard cries out once more, but the trick works. The dark energy winks abruptly out, plunging them back into the dark.

Shepard whips his head towards Kaidan, every muscle tight, coiled, ready to spring into a fight.

“Shepard. It’s _me. Shepard!”_ Kaidan reaches blindly behind him, feeling for the panel on the wall beside the bed that will switch on the light until he finds it.

Like the snap of a finger, the fugue breaks. Shepard sees him finally, recognizes him. His breath catches in his throat, a strange mixture of anguish and relief welling in his eyes. Before Kaidan can react, Shepard throws an arm around Kaidan’s neck and pulls him into a rough embrace. Kaidan returns it like a reflex. Not that he has much choice; Shepard’s grip is iron, though he shakes like he’s about to fly apart.

_What the hell, what the hell, what the ever-fucking hell…_

Kaidan’s afraid to move. Afraid to speak. So does the only thing he can think of and holds on. Pressed together like this, the rapid thump of Shepard’s heart mirrors his own.

And it’s real. No performance. No ruse. This is _real_. Shepard, vulnerable, _frightened_ , holding on to Kaidan like his life depends on it.

Kaidan tightens his grip.

The only sound in the room is Shepard’s heavy breathing.

Kaidan doesn’t know what finally breaks the spell, but Shepard lets go like a bucket of cold water has been dropped on his head, backing up hastily to put space between them.

“Fuck,” he gasps, putting a hand to his forehead.

“Are you all right?” Kaidan exclaims

Shepard swivels and drops his feet off the side of the bed onto the floor. His spine forms a curl as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Like _hell_.” Kaidan slides across the bed towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He half expects Shepard to flinch.

_You called out my name._

Sharjila. Eden Prime. Benezia. Virmire. Saren. Sovereign. All of the horrors they’ve faced down together, all of the times they’ve put their lives in each other’s hands. Never once had Kaidan caught even a glimmer of the fear and terror that had been in Shepard’s voice a moment ago.

“Shepard. That wasn’t nothing. What happened?”

_Why did you call out my name?_

Shepard pushes off the bed, walks into the bathroom and turns on the sink. Kaidan follows and hovers in the doorway, curling his bare toes in defense against the cold tiles. “You’re scaring the hell out of me. _Talk_ to me.”

Shepard grips the sides of the sink, gaze directed into the bowl, water still dripping from his face. “It’s just a nightmare.”

“ _Just_ a nightmare? Shepard.”

Shepard yanks a towel from the rack and puts it to his face, muffling his voice. “I’m used to it.” He lowers his hands. “Been recurring since Eden Prime.”

Kaidan’s heart lurches. “The beacon.”

_(what did the beacon show you, commander? what did you see?_ )

Shepard nods at Kaidan’s reflection in the mirror. “I – it got better after Virmire. Liara helped me unscramble it a little.”

“Are they always that bad?”

Shepard wads the towel up and chucks it in the sink. “Yeah.”

“What…happens?”

_Why did you call out my name?_

There’s something defensive, maybe even a little aggressive in Shepard’s eyes when he meets Kaidan’s gaze. As Kaidan opens his mouth to apologize, Shepard’s expression shifts yet again. Barriers down. Shield emitters off. What’s left is something almost alien on someone like Shepard, a desperate uncertainty that takes Kaidan’s breath away.

Usually so composed, so opaque, unflappable, a raging storm of conflicting emotions flicker across his face. And then it stops. Everything about him closes off, full power to shields. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Kaidan opens his mouth, but Shepard pushes past him before he can say anything. Instead of heading back to bed he goes straight for his bag on the floor in the corner of the room.

“Shepard, what’re—”

“I’m sorry.” He slides the closet door open to grab the dress uniform hanging there, pressed and ready for the medal ceremony in a few hours. Kaidan puts a hand on his arm.

“ _Talk_ to me.”

“I’m going to go grab a bunk at Command.”

“What? _Why?_ ”

“You need sleep,” Shepard says. “I’m in the way.”

An incredulous laugh escapes Kaidan’s throat. “Since when have either of us ever worried about sleep?”

“Since now, I guess,” Shepard snaps.

“I don’t care about sleep,” Kaidan argues. “I care about _you_.”

Shepard stops, but says nothing.

“ _Please_ don’t leave,” Kaidan begs. “Not like this.”

It feels like an eternity before Shepard lets go of the hanger with a bitter chuckle. “Hell. I can’t even keep baggage out of a fake relationship.” He gives Kaidan a wry smile.

Kaidan relaxes a fraction, though he can still taste the fear and uncertainty in the back of his throat. “Yeah, well. I work with what I’ve got.”

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to manage my personal bullshit. Not what you signed up for.”

That stings. A lot. “We’ve been managing each other’s personal bullshit for a long time now. You are literally here, in my house, helping me manage my personal bullshit.”

Shepard huffs, sits down heavily on the bed and stares at his hands. There’s something melancholy about the sound that twists Kaidan’s heart.

He thinks back to the rise and fall of Shepard’s chest at the gala, the comfort of his hands, and everything in him aches. The urge to put his arms around him, to give some of that _back_ is almost too powerful to ignore. But Shepard’s made it more than clear he’s still got one hand on the door, so Kaidan doesn’t move.

“I really hate that nightmare,” Shepard says eventually.

Kaidan sits down on his side of the bed, hands useless in his lap. For what feels like ages Shepard stubbornly holds on to silence while Kaidan scrambles for something to say and fails. Eventually Shepard shoves his feet back under the covers – further tormenting the already twisted sheet – and rolls over to face the opposite wall.

Gingerly, Kaidan gets back into bed, mind racing as he turns the light off and flips onto his shoulder, facing Shepard’s back. Even in the dark he can see the taut line of Shepard’s shoulders. He chews his lip, starts to reach out with his arm, then retracts it back to his chest.

_What the hell just happened, and why did you call out my name?_

He lies awake for a long time, almost afraid to fall back asleep. But at some point he drifts off, because when he wakes up again the grey light of pre-dawn threatens the horizon through a light curtain of rain, and Shepard is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm sorry, Tali, none of this is my fault. I do _not_ control the weather.


	12. Light Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Better grab an umbrella, looks like rain.

_And you don’t hold back_   
_So I won't hold back_   
_And you don’t look back_   
_So I won’t look back_

[x](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Zf1BPkkFAWGtVHeBwHHz4?si=6aNH1yVmQ6q6RgaZQhkpUg)

**** **Light Me Up**

Kaidan hops as he tugs on his boots, swearing a little. No one else is up yet. Hopefully it stays that way.

Halfway to the door he spies the rain through the glass doors to the balcony, swears again, and grabs an umbrella hanging by in the foyer. It’s been less than a week and he’s really tired of weather.

He paces in the elevator all the way down to the bottom floor. There are only so many places Shepard could have gone. Command is the obvious choice. He might have even tried to get back onto the _Normandy¸_ though repairs aren’t scheduled to be completed until early afternoon. The city is vast, but Shepard doesn’t know it at all outside of the places he’s been with Kaidan, which at least narrows it down.

One place in particular stands out.

Light rain falls on his head when he exits the lobby into the gloomy pre-dawn fog and calls for a skycar.

~

Hadden Park is nearly empty when the skycar drops Kaidan off. A heavy curtain of rain hovers over the bay, transforming it into a homogenous grey. On a normal day, hints of dawn would already be spilling across the sky. But this morning the street lamps still shine halos in the gloom, illuminating the light but steady rainfall. Kaidan draws his jacket tighter with one hand as a cold whip of wind bites through him, other holding the umbrella aloft. If only he’d thought to bring gloves. He flexes his fingers.

He’d forgotten just how _cold_ rain can be. His breath mists in front of him, and small curls of steam rise from the sidewalk as the rain strikes the warmer concrete.

A couple of determined joggers run with their heads down, water splashing under their feet. The only other person present is a lone figure seated on a bench. The same bench Kaidan had sat down on over a decade ago, where he’d more or less changed the course of his life.

Shepard sits with shoulders hunched against the rain, arms wrapped around himself, watching the water roil out in the distance. Kaidan approaches slowly, not sure what to say, what to do, or whether or not he should even be here. But when Shepard glances over he offers a wan half-smile, like he’s been expecting Kaidan to show.

“Hey, you.”

Kaidan’s breath catches in his throat. An accident? A coincidence? No. Not with Shepard. Couldn’t be. The universe couldn’t be that cruel.

_(You’re telling me in an intimate moment with the person you love, you’d want them to say, ‘hey, you?’)_

_(That’s what I’m saying.)_

Heart pounding, he sits down on the bench as close to Shepard as he dares, angling the umbrella with a shaking hand so it covers them both. Pooled water on the seat immediately seeps through the fabric of his pants, clammy and cold. He grimaces and shifts around to avoid it, which only makes it worse.

 _Hey, you_. It had been a joke. Harmless flirtation. Now it means everything.

_Everything._

The umbrella amplifies the gentle patter of the rain, turning it into a dull roar that competes with the churning waves against the shore.

“It’s you, you know,” Shepard says, looking back out at the water. “You’re the nightmare.”

Kaidan straightens a little. “I—what?”

Shepard rests his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. His pants are already soaked and he has to be freezing. How long would he have sat here if Kaidan hadn’t come?

“The prothean message wasn’t compatible with my brain,” Shepard says. “So the beacon got creative to get it across in a way I could understand.”

Unease coils in the pit of Kaidan’s stomach. “What do you see?”

A gust of wind knocks the umbrella around, nearly clocking Shepard in the head. He scowls at it, like he can somehow elicit an apology for the interruption, then shivers and curls into himself. “It roots out my own memories and…overwrites them, I guess. I don’t see protheans being slaughtered. I see people I know. Care about. Different places, different people every time, except for one constant.” He looks Kaidan right in the eye. “You.”

Kaidan’s heart thuds in his chest. “Me.”

“It’s always you. Wherever I go. Whoever I’m with. Whether it’s a memory from when I was ten or something that happened yesterday, you’re always there. And every time...they rip you apart, over and over, right in front of my eyes.” He puts his head in his hands. “I have watched you die so many times. I can’t _stop_ it, because it’s not a dream. It’s a fucked up warning about something that happened fifty thousand years ago. Something I can’t change.”

“Shepard. I…” The words die on Kaidan’s lips.

Shepard looks back towards the water. A wave slams against the shore. “I’ve been telling myself all this time it doesn’t mean anything. The beacon comes back to you because you’re a constant. One of the only constants I’ve got _._ Hell, I said as much to Liara just three days ago. She thinks I’m a complete idiot but is too polite to say so. Turns out she’s right.”

“What are you saying?” Kaidan asks, scarcely daring to breathe. He holds the umbrella so tight his hand aches, fingers numb with cold.

“Everything is so easy with you,” Shepard says, almost as if he’s saying it to himself. “I didn’t see it happening because it’s never felt like anything’s _changed_. Until this week. Until last night when I held you and…god, I didn’t want to let you go. Kaidan, I didn’t want to let you go.”

Kaidan opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. _I didn’t want you to, either._

Shepard shakes his head. “The crazy thing is, even then it didn’t feel like we’d crossed a line. There’ve never _been_ lines when it comes to us.”

Tentatively at first, Kaidan reaches out with cold-stiff fingers, bracing himself in case Shepard flinches. But instead of moving away Shepard waits, still as stone, until Kaidan brushes his knuckles against Shepard’s cheek, smudging the droplets of rain clinging to it. His skin is like ice, the ever-present stubble rough to the touch.

Kaidan’s heart races. “Like you said. We’ve always been pretty good at you and me.”

Shepard traps Kaidan’s hand with his own, shockingly warm fingers fumbling until they interlace with Kaidan’s. He rests his forehead against their joined hands, closes his eyes and lets out a breath that transmutes into steam, a small exhale of heat against the damp cold.

“You and me,” Shepard murmurs. But then his brow furrows. “Dammit, _no,_ ” he mutters, abruptly letting go. To Kaidan’s dismay he pushes to his feet and starts walking away, hunching his shoulders against the rain and pulling his jacket up in a futile effort to protect his exposed head.

“Shepard!” Kaidan calls out. He stands up, a gust of wind catching the umbrella and nearly turning it inside out. He curses, wrangling it back under control.

“I can’t do this to you, Kaidan,” Shepard says over his shoulder.

“You have never run from anything in your life. Don’t you _dare_ start with me.”

Shepard halts in his tracks, turns, slowly. “You don’t want this. I already make your life hell. We let this happen and we’re in for a world of hurt, you most of all.”

Kaidan throws a helpless arm in the air. “I don’t care anymore.”

“Yes you _do.”_ Shepard runs a hand over his scalp, wicking away water. “I’d have burned down the _Destiny Ascension_ myself if it meant saving your life. If you’d been the one stuck on the AA tower on Virmire, I’d have come for you. Fuck the bomb. Fuck Saren. Fuck all the reasons to go the other way. I’d have come for _you_ , Kaidan.”

“I know,” Kaidan says, voice wavering. “Sam, I know.”

Shepard hadn’t come for him on Virmire to protect the nuke and Ashley had _died_ for it. Wishing it isn’t true doesn’t change it.

“I don’t give a damn about the right thing when it comes to you,” Shepard says, with conviction in his voice that rocks Kaidan right to his core. “But you do. Don’t tell me you don’t because I _know you do._ ”

 _I did,_ Kaidan thinks bleakly, wanting to _shout_ about how little it matters now.

“You know what’s waiting for us out there.” Shepard drops his chin and paces a few steps, water pooling around his feet. “You know what we’re up against. For some fucking reason it all has to be on me, and I can’t do it without you. I _need_ you by my side. But I don’t know how to put both you _and_ the mission first. So I need you to understand. If it’s a choice between you and the galaxy, fuck the galaxy. I choose you. Without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I choose _you.”_

A blast of wind cuts Kaidan right to the bone.

“Sam,” he says, voice swallowed up by the rain.

“You’ll pay the price for that,” Shepard goes on, hurrying through the words as though he’s afraid to hear what Kaidan has to say. “I can’t…I _won’t_ do that to you.”

 _Pretending it’s not real doesn’t make it any less real,_ Joker had said. He’d been right. It’s real. It’s all real. It’s _always_ been real. How could he ever have convinced himself it was anything else?

A bitter chuckle escapes Kaidan’s throat. “You’re talking about it like it only changes if we name it. It already _is._ We can’t change what is.”

Shepard locks Kaidan in his gaze. Rain patters the umbrella in loud, rhythmic taps. For half a heartbeat, every excuse, every argument, every justification for walking away, whispers a warning in the back of Kaidan’s mind.

But Shepard is right _here_ , in front of him, and there’s no going back. There never was. Not really.

“Do you love me?” Kaidan asks.

“Yes,” Shepard says. As if it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy.

Kaidan’s grip around the handle of the umbrella tightens. “Say it.”

“I love you. I think I always have.”

Something deep in his chest finally gives. “Then to hell with the rest.”

Kaidan lowers the umbrella and closes the distance between them, throwing his arms around Shepard’s neck. Shepard seizes him tight, arms circling his back and locking him to his chest with enough force to drive the air out of his lungs. The umbrella whips out of Kaidan’s hand and he lets it go, putting the hand that had held it to better use. Shepard’s – Kaidan’s – jacket is slick with water, and between the damp leather, wet cloth and cold rain on Shepard’s skin it feels nothing like he imagined, but it doesn’t matter. With Shepard, things never really work out how you imagine.

They’re better.

His hands move from the back of Shepard’s neck to his shoulders to his head, unable to settle anywhere because he wants everything.

Everything. All of it. They’ve held it all back for so long. And for what? There’s only so much the galaxy can take from you before you have to take something back.

This. He’s taking _this._

Shepard lets go and pulls away just far enough to catch Kaidan’s face in both hands, thumbs running through the moisture clinging to his cheeks. He blinks away droplets of rain stuck in his lashes.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“So help me, if you don’t kiss me right—”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish.

Shepard leans in and touches his lips to Kaidan’s, gentle at first, even hesitant. The first time he hasn’t charged headlong into something. His lips are cold but his mouth is warm, so warm, and Kaidan drinks him in slow, heart pounding, arms drawing Shepard closer. Rivulets of rain sneak under the collar of his jacket, icy cold against his damp skin.

Shepard turns him loose with wide, anxious eyes, searching for a reaction.

So Kaidan gives him one. This time it’s not slow. It’s deep, clumsy and a little desperate, a lifetime of waiting and wanting pouring out in one single moment. They chase the breath from each other’s lungs surrounded by wind and rain as the hell of the past week dissolves. There’s just Shepard’s mouth, Shepard’s hands, everything he’s ever wanted all at once. A small sigh slips out of Kaidan’s mouth as the knot in his chest slowly begins to unwind.

When they finally part they rest their foreheads together, their heavy breathing cocooned by the rain and lash of waves against the shore. Even soaked to the bone, the subtle intersection of their biotic fields raises the hairs on Kaidan’s arms. Something he’s felt so many times, in so many different ways, whether it be the invisible shockwave of Shepard’s raw power, or the casual intrusion of his unconscious toying. But rarely, if ever, has it felt this close, this intimate, like a soft ripple of static under Kaidan’s skin.

“All this time,” Shepard murmurs, fingers cradling the base of Kaidan’s neck.

“You always were a little dense,” Kaidan says with a low chuckle.

Shepard says nothing, just pulls Kaidan into him, embracing him just as fiercely as he had back at the condo. Only this time without the fear.

Rain drips from Kaidan’s nose. Water sneaks into his boots and soaks through his jacket. He can’t feel his fingers, and his toes are going numb. He doesn’t let go.

“You’re everything to me,” Shepard mumbles into his ear.

“That’s good,” Kaidan says, voice catching, “Because I sure as hell don’t want to be everything to anyone else.”

Shepard loosens his grip just enough to find Kaidan’s mouth once more. It’s reckless. Eager. _Shepard_. In the space of a few moments they’ve changed everything, yet nothing has changed at all.

All they did was name it.

“I have a confession to make,” Kaidan says when they part. Another gust of wind blows against them, but with the heat radiating off Shepard’s body Kaidan hardly registers it.

Shepard’s eyes widen. “Another one? Hell, the sun’s barely up. _Is_ it up? I can’t actually tell.”

Kaidan grins. “That thing I said. About not being able to change what is.”

“Yeah? I uh, I gotta say. That was pretty convincing.”

Kaidan runs a thumb along the back of Shepard’s neck and huffs. “I got that from Joker.”

“ _Joker?_ ”

“No lie. Been trying to figure out how to tell you how I felt for years, and when I finally did it was with a line I stole from fucking Joker.”

Shepard laughs, a pure sound full of warmth, in stubborn contrast to the wet, steel sky. He cups a hand against Kaidan’s cheek. Kaidan traps it there and leans into the touch, closing his eyes. When he opens them again Shepard is waiting, bright gleam in his eye that changes his entire face. Like a weight’s been lifted and he can finally breathe.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Shepard tells him. “Everything about you is perfect.”

Shepard finds his lips again and takes it slow in a rare display of patience. Kaidan’s nerves tingle as Shepard’s corona kindles, limning them both in a bright blue glow.

Kaidan lets his own corona bleed into Shepard’s, a defiant flare of light against the gloom. It’s still wet, still grey as dawn struggles for a foothold behind the clouds. But it’s _something_.

A gust of wind drives a torrent of rain against them.

Kaidan shifts his weight, letting go of his aura as he becomes more distracted by the water squelching inside his boots. “It’s really wet out here.”

Water drips from a lock of hair plastered to his forehead. Shepard brushes it away, static shock passing through his fingers as his corona fades. “You said rain helped you think. I needed to think.”

“Well, are you done? My socks are wet.”

“Fucking hell, mine too. I’m _freezing._ This is worse than getting shot. Why does anyone go down a well without combat armor?”

Kaidan leans in and kisses him again, drawing a muffled sound from Shepard’s throat. “Can’t do that with a helmet on.”

“Yeah, well, in that case, never wearing one again.”

Kaidan laughs against Shepard’s mouth, then slips his tongue past Shepard’s teeth and lets himself get a little lost. It’s not difficult to do. He’s been resisting Shepard’s gravitational pull for years. Falling into it is as simple as letting go.

“Fuck, ok, I am soaking wet and I can’t feel my face,” Shepard complains the next time they part. “I can’t tell if this is snot or rain coming out my nose. Also, I hate wet socks more than I hate bone knitters. What’s the fastest way back to your place?”

“That anxious to get my shirt off?”

Shepard stills for a moment, eyes widening, caught off guard for maybe the first time in his life. “Yes,” he says, the conviction in his voice sending a shiver of heat right to a very particular central point.

“I’ll call us a ride,” Kaidan says. Shepard doesn’t need to know how many butterflies just cut loose in his stomach.

It’s another five minutes before either of them can get a hand free to bring up an omnitool. As they wait for the skycar to arrive, Shepard twines their fingers.

“Your hand is fucking freezing,” Shepard informs him, before squeezing it tighter.

Kaidan chuckles. Shepard leans his head against him.

 _This_ , Kaidan thinks. _This is what it feels like._

~

They leave a puddle of water in the entryway when they get back to the condo and strip off their boots. It’s barely 07:00, and no sign that Kaidan’s parents are awake yet. Kaidan finds them some towels from the linen closet in the bathroom. They should have some dry clothes somewhere.

Shepard takes the towels out of his hands and drops them on the bed. Kaidan opens his mouth, smartass remark ready and waiting on his tongue, but the look in Shepard’s eyes stops him cold. A flood of warmth races through him as Shepard peels Kaidan’s soaked shirt over his head and drops it to the floor. Shepard’s breath catches in his throat, the sound of it enough to make Kaidan dizzy.

Slow, reverent fingers track their way down Kaidan’s chest, stopping occasionally to trace a line of a muscle, shadow of a rib. Between the shock of cold air against his wet skin and Shepard’s feather light touch, his body is awash in goosebumps.

“You look like you’ve never seen me before,” Kaidan breathes. Shepard’s hands follow the rise and fall of it.

“I haven’t,” Shepard murmurs. “Not like this.”

The rest of Kaidan’s clothing still clings to him in a thousand uncomfortable ways. Shepard is still fully dressed and dripping water onto the floor. But Kaidan doesn’t dare move, for fear of breaking the spell.

The flesh of Kaidan’s belly jumps as Shepard ghosts it. Kaidan’s exhale is long, shaky, the warmth turning to heat as Shepard runs a thumb along the dark, rain-damp hair trailing southward, then follows it below his waistband.

He catches Shepard’s hand. “We do this now,” he whispers in Shepard’s ear, “we’re gonna feel like we need to rush. I don’t want to rush.”

The jump of Shepard’s Adam’s apple nearly does more to Kaidan than the probing fingers.

“I’m game with skipping a medal ceremony if you are,” Shepard says, voice thick.

“Tempting,” Kaidan says, tipping his chin up and pressing a kiss against his lips. “But being interrupted by my parents is not exactly the foot I’d like to get started on.”

“I can be quiet,” Shepard mumbles against his mouth.

A low rumble slips into Kaidan’s voice. “Where’s the fun in that?” He _feels_ Shepard shiver, and it’s enough to make his cold, clinging pants even more uncomfortable than they already are.

Kaidan reaches out with one hand, fumbling for one of the towels on the bed. When he finds one he drapes it over Shepard’s head like a hood, grips the cotton and pulls him in for one more kiss.

It takes every ounce of reserve he’s got in him, but Kaidan lets Shepard go, grabs the other towel along with a set of dry clothes and saunters into the bathroom, all with a smirk that he knows damn well has exactly the effect he intends it to.

“Ok,” Shepard stutters. “Um. How the _hell_ did I not know you could be seductive?”

“I have a few secrets,” Kaidan says from the bathroom, behind a partially closed door. If Shepard catches sight of his arousal the upper hand will be gone and he’ll _never_ get it back.

Having the Savior of the Citadel eating out of his hand is kind of…nice. He wants to enjoy it for a while. Maybe forever.

When they’re both dry and changed, Shepard loops his arms around Kaidan’s neck. Grins.

“Your hair is doing amazing things right now.”

“Just imagine when it’s not from the rain.”

Shepard thunks his forehead against Kaidan’s, chuckle stirring deep in his chest. “See, there it is again. This completely foreign, seductive side of you.”

“All for you,” Kaidan says softly. And it’s true. Outside of Shepard, he’s not sure this side of him exists.

Shepard pulls back, the look in his eye almost enough to make Kaidan regret everything he said about taking it slow. “So. Now what?”

Kaidan takes him by the hand and leads him out onto the balcony, stopping in the living room to grab one of the blankets from the basket. They take a seat on the small loveseat his mother uses to read and watch the bay. Shepard wraps the blanket around them, pulling Kaidan flush against him underneath it. While the rain still whips outside, the overhang keeps it clear of the balcony. Below, the sea roils, iron grey waves capped with a thick, white froth.

Kaidan slips an arm around Shepard’s back as Shepard rests his head on Kaidan's shoulder. They fall together like they’ve done it their whole lives. They have, in a way. Just a different way to fall.

“You fit,” Shepard says, draping an arm over Kaidan’s chest. “Knew you would.”

Kaidan’s fingers curl into Shepard’s waist. He locks Shepard against him with his other arm and holds him tight. When he exhales, the breath he’s been holding in since Ilos goes with it.

Kaidan has spent so many years parsing the complicated layers of Commander Shepard, meticulously fitting together each piece in search of a whole. The Butcher he’s made a tenuous peace with. The commanding officer he would – and _has –_ followed into the gates of hell. The warrior who wields dark energy like a firebrand, a cataclysmic torch that steals its flame from the stars themselves.

The deeper he’d probed, the more pieces he’d uncovered. In some cases, broken ones Shepard didn’t know how to put back together on his own. Under the long shadows of the Butcher of Torfan he’d found the Shepard who couldn’t sleep, who fed all his spare energy to shielding everyone else out, who quit eating under too much stress.

But the best ones, and the hardest to find, are always of Sam. The man with a grin that could blind the sun and a laugh with roots deep in Shepard’s own bedrock. Who fidgets with the gravity well, can’t sleep in a bed like a fucking normal person and hates weather but would sit in a rainstorm because Kaidan had said rain helped him think.

On their own they’re just pieces. But together they make up the man nestled against him, solid, real, and so remarkably human.

And _that_ person, Kaidan loves more fiercely than any power in the universe.

“Hey,” Shepard says, feeling round with his fingers until he finds Kaidan’s jaw and traces it. “You’re in your head. Don’t make me come in there after you.”

Kaidan smiles down at him. “Just give me a damn minute, will you? I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

Shepard burrows a little deeper against him, drowsy smile on his face. Or maybe he’s just…happy. Hard to tell. Another piece to discover and fit into the whole. The whole now resting in his arms.

“Take your time,” Shepard mumbles. “Not going anywhere.”

Thank god for that.

“Tell me something,” Kaidan asks, stroking Shepard’s cheek with a finger.

“Maybe.” Shepard splays his palm across Kaidan’s chest, scooches it around until settling over the beat of his heart.

A particularly vicious breeze blows across the balcony. Kaidan tucks the blanket around them a little tighter. “The other night. After the park. Were you just…being you? Or were you actually flirting with me?”

Shepard pulls away just far enough to give him a withering look. “Kaidan. I was throwing myself at you. Full frontal assault.”

Kaidan grins. “Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh._ But no, it was the existential crisis that finally got you, not the flirting.”

“Maybe lead with the existential crisis next time, then.”

Shepard huffs. Removes his hand to fumble for the hem of Kaidan’s t-shirt, then sneaks under it in search of bare skin. Kaidan closes his eyes at the warmth of his palm on his stomach. A soft sigh escapes him as Shepard’s hand roves. When he opens them, Shepard wears a sly smile that melts his insides.

“Learning how to get you to make more of those sounds is something I’m really going to enjoy.”

Kaidan practically purrs in response, just to give him that much more incentive.

“Your turn to tell me something,” Shepard mumbles against his neck.

“Maybe.”

“You said…you’ve been trying to figure out how to tell me how you feel for years.”

Kaidan shifts. “Yeah.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Tell me about it.”

“ _How?_ I figured it out less than forty-eight hours ago and thought I was going to die.”

Kaidan chuckles. “I’m actually impressed you got that long.”

Shepard re-arranges himself to get access to as much of Kaidan as he can. It’s nothing short of euphoric. Kaidan never would have guessed the Savior of the Citadel would be so…snuggly.

“But you never said anything,” Shepard says, once he’s settled again. “About the way you felt.”

“Came close a few times. Hell, I almost knocked on your door the night before we went to Ilos. I was going to tell you everything.”

“What stopped you?”

Kaidan shrugs. “The mission comes first. And…I don’t know what I would have done if you turned me down.”

Shepard sits up a little to better look him in the eye. “I wouldn’t have turned you down.”

Kaidan smiles. “Sure about that? You literally walked away from me less than an hour ago.”

“Yeah. Guess you have a point there.” Shepard lays his head back on Kaidan’s shoulder. Kaidan runs a hand up and down his arm. “Felt like someone dropped a drive core right on my head. Not often I have a crisis I can’t pull a gun on.”

“So walk me through it.”

Shepard’s fingers resume their exploration of Kaidan’s chest. “Systemic cascade failure, I guess. Started small, but as each system collapsed the whole thing went with it. Sleeping in the same bed. Wearing your jacket – which you aren’t getting back, by the way. Last night at the gala. Holding your cold, dead hand out here the other night.”

Kaidan smiles, gooses him with that cold, dead hand. Shepard jumps, gives him a mock scowl, then grabs hold of the offending fingers and does his best to warm them.

“We’ve never done those things before, but it felt like we’d been doing them for a thousand years,” he goes on.

“I know that feeling,” Kaidan murmurs.

“But the drive core to the head, believe it or not…was your mom.”

“Wait. _Really_?”

Shepard nods. “Remember when I told you she wanted to know what you were like?”

“Yeah. And now she thinks I’m a card shark.”

“You _are_ a card shark. I started with the usual bullshit when you don’t know what to say. The things I’d have said to Beaudoin’s father. What a great soldier you are. How lucky I am to serve with you. But then, I don’t know. It’s _you_. I felt like I owed it to her to tell the truth. But I’ve never…” he trails off.

“Never what?” Kaidan asks, kissing his temple. He can just… _do_ that now.

“I’ve never had to put you into words before,” Shepard says at last. “Never had to really contextualize what you mean to me. So when I did…well. Drive core to the head.”

“And yet you literally ran from me.”

“Right,” he says uneasily. “I don’t...fall for people, Kaidan. I never have. Then I spent all this time with you doing all these things like a real couple, and realized it’s what I want more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. But it was temporary. Real, but…not real.”

“Status quo,” Kaidan murmurs.

“Yeah. If we really wanted to change that there’s a cost.”

Kaidan holds him tighter.

“I’m not easy to love,” Shepard continues. “You know it as well as I do. Not fair of me to ask.”

“Don’t have to, as it happens,” Kaidan says.

“Yeah. That’s…really great.” He makes a face. “Sorry. I can’t come up with anything better.”

“Want me to ask Joker?”

Shepard buries his nose against Kaidan’s neck and laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound Kaidan has ever heard.

“How long do you think before we have to get ready for the ceremony?” Shepard asks.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Out in the distance, rain continues pelting the bay in a sleek, grey curtain.

“You were right,” Shepard says. “The rain changes everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this was worth the wait. :) One more chapter to go. My goal is to have it up next Saturday, but there is a chance it will be delayed.


	13. What's in the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali and Liara ponder what home means. Joker gets his ship back. Kaidan finally knocks on that damned door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Special note:** This chapter dips its toes in explicit territory. If you want to avoid it, skip from the line "Shepard takes advantage of ..." to "Limbs warm and heavy..." :)

_Oh I'm gonna love you now, like it's all I have_

[x](https://open.spotify.com/track/6hdkw1wzhIRYPlYDUtCY5m?si=XPnv0O2wRPyutPy8kXF4JQ)

**What’s in the Stars**

Lora Alenko throws on a robe and fumbles for a pair of slippers, only managing to find the left one. She curses under her breath. Her head had been on the pillow for maybe three hours. Thirty years ago she would have shrugged it off and gone about her day with only some mild griping, but these days she’s rather partial to a good night’s sleep.

When she flips the light on Marc stirs, grumbles, and pulls the sheets tighter over his head.

“On your feet, soldier.” This morning is going to require coffee. Lots of it.

“You’re a poor imitation of a drill instructor,” Marc mumbles into his pillow.

She walks over and yanks the sheets off of him. “Wanna test that?”

He growls and swipes at her with his hand, but she’s already out of reach.

“Time to get up.”

“Why did we do this,” he complains.

“Because we’re parents,” she says, finally finding the missing slipper.

“Is it too late to return him?”

“By about thirty years, yes.”

He’s still figuring out how to get out of bed when she slips out of the bedroom and heads for the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot. She’s halfway through the living room when she freezes at the sound of voices out on the balcony.

Through the window she can see the top of Kaidan and Sam’s heads. They’re sitting in her old reading lounge, watching the rain. Shepard says something and Kaidan laughs, that pure, free sound she used to hear so often when he was a kid. The laugh that would make even the worst away mission feel like a good day. In the middle of it, Shepard catches him by the chin and kisses him.

Her eyes widen. Oh. _Oh._

As silent as she can manage, she pivots on her heel and slips back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

They’ll get coffee on the way.

~

 _Rain_.

Tali steps outside onto a balcony that edges the length of the atrium where she and Joker have been having breakfast each morning. The rain comes down hard, thick, creating a veil opaque enough to hide the skyline of the city behind it. It hits the ground with a roar that drowns out most any other sound. It’s oddly…peaceful.

She has never been on one planet for so long. Never just…lived in a city the way she has for the past four days. It’s not like the Citadel with its controlled climate and artificial sun. Not like an away mission. There is no shotgun holstered on her back, no ECM grenades at her hip. No enemy transponder pings on her HUD.

She leans out over the balcony and turns her face to the sky, grinning as the rain pelts her faceplate, distorting the grey clouds above her with thick reams of cascading water.

 _Is this what it would be like?_ she wonders. To have a home? To wander freely under the sky, dodging raindrops, watching the sun rise and set?

She stretches her hand out from under the overhang protecting the balcony, wondering what it would feel like on her skin. For how hard it looks coming down, it’s surprisingly light against the palm of her suit.

There _is_ something romantic about the rain. Just…not in the way she had imagined.

Joker comes to join her, watching her with a quirk to his lip that is more friendly than amused. “So you got your rainstorm,” he says, leaning a crutch against the railing. “Sorry it came too late to help out our favorite Forbidden Ops duo.”

She straightens back up, wiping the water from her faceplate. “I suppose it was silly. They’re just stories.”

“Good stories,” Joker admits. “And not as silly as you think. Wanting our friends to be happy just makes us good…friends, I guess.”

“Us? When did you and I become a team on this?” Tali says, nudging him with an elbow.

“We’ve always been a team, Tali,” Joker replies.

They watch the rain fall for a few more minutes.

“Apparently the Alliance agreed we’re heroes and aren’t going to throw us to the wolves,” Joker says.

“That’s good news!” Tali exclaims.

“Yeah, except now I gotta go be a pincushion for a hero medal before we can go home. Wanna come?” Joker grabs his crutch.

“Yes,” she says, turning back towards the atrium. Medal ceremony. Then back to the _Normandy_.

Back home.

~

It’s been a long time since Lora Alenko walked through Command. She tried to do it as sparingly as possible when Marc was active duty. The uniforms, the discipline, the saluting is all rather…much to deal with. But she’s more than glad to put up with it today. She hadn’t seen Kaidan graduate from the academy. There wasn’t a way to get to Arcturus for any of his promotion ceremonies. This is the only milestone she’s been able to take part in since his sixteenth birthday. She’ll stomach a little Alliance propriety for that.

The auditorium for the ceremony is larger than she expects, and thrumming with activity. So much about the inquest was kept under wraps, but now that it’s over, the Alliance is going to take every advantage they can find to market humanity’s heroes.

Her _son_ is one of those heroes.

It’s both thrilling and terrifying.

She takes her seat, reserved with her name and everything, while Marc makes the rounds greeting old friends and colleagues, taking every opportunity to talk about Kaidan. She even spies a few petty handshakes. He’d never liked Captain Edelstein, now _Rear Admiral_ Edelstein, but Edelstein’s kid is a second lieutenant behind a desk in Rio.

Lora may not love the Alliance, but seeing her emotionally conservative husband actually beaming with pride is a sight to behold.

Kaidan does his own hand shaking at the front of the room. Every member of his crew looks relieved, like a weight has been lifted from their shoulders. Shepard had received word on the way over that they’d been cleared to return to the ship. No disciplinary action.

Of course, she likes to think that there are other reasons that Kaidan looks so happy this morning.

“What do you look so pleased about?” Marc asks her in a low voice as he slips into the seat next to her.

She finds his hand and holds it tight. “I think I helped Kaidan fix something.”

A wary look passes across his face. “I thought you said you were going to try to rein in the fixing.”

She gazes towards the front of the auditorium. All she can see is the top of their heads, easy to spot beside the purple cowl of Tali’s helmet and Liara’s unmistakable blue fringe. The only evidence of what she’d seen on the balcony is Kaidan’s hair. Normally so immaculately kept, this morning it looks decidedly…mussed. Like someone who’d been out in the rain and had other things on his mind besides taming it for a medal ceremony.

She smiles. “Yes, I know. But this time…I think I got it right.”

~

As the ceremony ends, Tali is one of the first to shake Kaidan’s hand, in true human fashion. She’s happy the Alliance is recognizing him, of course, but she has an ulterior motive.

“Your hair looks different this morning,” she says.

His skin color changes, reddening a little. He runs self-conscious fingers through it. “Yeah, got a little wet. Didn’t have time to fix it.”

“Out in the rain?” she prods.

“Yeah,” he says, cautiously.

Behind her faceplate, he cannot see her smile.

~

The skybridge leading to the docking bay is made almost entirely of glass, affording Liara a narrow but lovely view of the bay as she heads towards the _Normandy_.

She never imagined a ship would feel like home. But it does. Though when she catches sight of Shepard leaning on the railing, gazing at the _Normandy’s_ name just above the tiger stripes on the hull, she wonders if there is something to his notion that home isn’t a place.

The truth is, she has never really belonged anywhere. As a child she had always felt smothered on Thessia. While she never imagined it would not be home, she does not yearn for it. And as she had grown older, she had never found roots elsewhere. Dig sites are temporary. Lonely. The faces – when there are any – change.

But then Shepard showed up on Therum.

She has not discussed with him what she might do now that matters are settling. What place there might still be for her here. It is not a conversation she has been looking forward to having. Should her presence on the _Normandy_ no longer be required, where would she go? In the wake of all they have discovered, her love of the protheans has lost some of its luster. There is still much to learn, certainly, but she is not sure she still has the heart to drive those discoveries.

So much has changed. And…she does not want to leave.

“You look deep in thought,” she says, coming to stand beside him.

He huffs. “Been an interesting morning.”

“There is much formality at human ceremonies,” Liara says. “My people would be impressed.”

He toys with his fingers and nods towards the _Normandy_. “At least it’s over, I guess. Looking forward to going home?”

She draws in a deep breath. “About that.”

He dips his chin, lips pressing into a thin line. “Liara, if you want to leave, I understand. You, even more than Tali, Wrex or Garrus, never signed up for this in the first place. Just tell me where you want to go…and I’ll take you.”

“Shepard…I would prefer to stay.”

He turns to her, surprise etched on his features.

“I simply do not know what I have to offer you in return.”

“Liara, if all you had to offer was your company and wisdom, we’d be lucky to have you.” He raises an eyebrow. “But we both know you’re worth a lot more than that.”

She ducks her head.

“Besides, if you left, you’d be missing your best chance to say I told you so.”

She frowns. “Sorry…I do not follow. Why would I say that?”

He looks back down at his hands. “Because you were right. About…everything.”

 _Oh,_ she thinks. _Goddess. Could Tali have been right about the rain?_

“Ah,” she says. “Then I presume you were not exaggerating when you said it has been an interesting morning.”

A smile spreads across his face. A good smile. One she does not often see…except around Kaidan. “No. I wasn’t.”

“Shepard…I am very happy for you. For both of you.”

“Thank you. It’s been a long time coming. Apparently.”

She smiles.

“You could have, you know. Just hit me over the head with how I felt about him. Instead of trusting me to figure it out sometime before dying of old age.”

“Oh really?” she says with amusement. “Blunt force trauma is not really my preferred method of discovery, and quite frankly, your skull is thicker than a krogan’s. I do not believe a direct approach would have been any more useful.”

“Maybe not,” he says, smiling even wider.

“Where is he now?”

“Saying goodbye to his parents.”

She nods. “Then I am sure that you, more than anyone, will be happy to be home.”

He pushes away from the railing. “My home is more than just him. You’re part of it, too. Liara. There’s always a place for you. If you want it.”

“I do,” she says, waiting for him to turn towards the ship before wiping the corner of her eye.

“Well, then,” he says over his shoulder. “Double time it, Dr. T’Soni.”

“Aye, sir,” she replies, and then follows him through the airlock.

~

Kaidan takes a sip from his coffee cup, watching his father greet another acquaintance who’d spied him in the café where they’re attempting to eat an extremely late breakfast. His mother hides a furtive smile behind a bagel.

“Told you we should have found a more solitary spot,” she says under her breath. “They’ll be lining up before long. You and I might as well be here by ourselves.”

Kaidan chuckles. “Dad’s got close to fifty years’ worth of friends hanging around this place. Not sure there’s a place we could hide him.”

“He likes it anyway,” she says. “Gives him a chance to boast about you.”

Kaidan rubs the back of his neck. It’s true that he’s shaken a lot of hands in the last half hour.

“He’s very proud of you. We both are.”

“Thank you,” Kaidan says.

“Hope you at least got some rest while you were here. Looks like you were up awfully early this morning.” She raises an eyebrow.

Kaidan stutters. “Uh. Yes. Hope we didn’t…wake you.”

She smiles widely and takes another sip of her coffee. “Not at all. Just glad you were able to steal a few minutes for yourselves.”

Kaidan focuses very intently on what’s left of his muffin. “Yeah. It was…nice. Thank you for everything you did this week. It meant a lot.”

She leans back in her chair, looking oddly satisfied. “Glad we could help.”

His father bids the latest well-wisher goodbye and turns back to his family. “Sorry about that. Glad the Alliance came to their senses. Treated you like a damn hero the way you deserve, and didn’t let the inquest change the status quo.”

Kaidan coughs, but manages to set his coffee cup down without spilling it – barely. “Yeah. Our records are going to remain clear. Time to resume active duty.”

“We’re going to miss you,” his mother says. “We’ll miss you both. The house will be so quiet.”

“We’ll be back,” Kaidan says. He doesn’t make a prediction. The galaxy is a big place, and there’s no telling how long it will take to circle back to Sol.

They take their time finishing their coffee. Chat over empty plates. Now that the time to say goodbye is here, he’s more reluctant to do it than he expects.

His parents walk with him towards the docking bay. When the hull of the _Normandy_ comes into view through the glass panels of the skybridge, he stops for just a moment to take it in. Old ritual. Usually something he reserves for the first time on a new ship. But while the _Normandy_ itself is familiar, something very new will be waiting when he boards.

“Glad to be going home?” his father asks.

The question takes him off guard. Home is supposed to be Vancouver, but it’s not, is it? Not anymore. He has roots here, grew up here. But home is through that airlock.

“I—”

His father smiles. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

His mother hugs him. “I’m glad you’re happy,” she whispers in his ear. He gives her a curious look, but she just smiles and pats his cheek. Before he can ask her about it, his father gives him a quick embrace, followed by a salute that Kaidan returns.

“I have to go,” Kaidan says.

His father stops him. “You’ve got important work to do out there. It’s not going to be easy. Just know…you have a place to land here if you need it.”

Kaidan nods, swallowing over the lump in his throat. “Love you both.”

“Love you, too. Stay safe.”

~

Joker readjusts the pilot’s chair to erase all signs of the technician who’d dared sit in his seat, then settles back and heaves a sigh of relief, running his hands across the cockpit dash.

It won’t be long before the rest of the crew is back on board and the old girl feels like she’s really up and running again. He’s ready to exchange grass and sky for a maw of endless black and a few stars. Call him a sucker, but there’s no place he’d rather be than right fucking here. The last hour or two of waiting before they’re cleared for departure is going to be the longest part of the week.

Tali flops into the co-pilot seat, datapad in hand.

“You know Chase’s gonna need that chair when we take off,” Joker tells her.

“You’ve got about two hours of pre-flight checks before that happens,” she informs him, and puts her feet up on the console. “Besides, I started book five, and thought you might want in on it.”

“Thought your ill-timed rainstorm might have dampened some of your enthusiasm for _Forbidden Ops._ ” Joker waggles his eyebrows. “See what I did there? That was a pun. _Dampened._ Get it?”

“Very funny,” she assures him. “And what makes you think the rainstorm let me down?”

“Wait. You say that like you know something,” Joker says, instantly suspicious.

“Did you _see_ Kaidan’s hair this morning?”

“So what?”

“He was out in the rain.”

He makes a face. “And how do you know what water does to hair?”

“A few carefully worded questions and some well-timed blushing.”

“No fucking _way.”_ Joker leans over the side of his chair towards her. But before he can demand the details, the airlock bleeps. When the cycle completes, Kaidan comes aboard. Tali and Joker both stare as he sticks his head in the cockpit to greet them.

“Nice hair,” Joker says. “Get caught in the rain?”

Kaidan gestures out the shutters. “It is in fact raining.”

“Yeah, but you’re way too prepared to not be prepared for that. I’m guessing something a little…spontaneous happened.”

“I feel like you’re insinuating something,” Kaidan replies.

“I’m usually insinuating something. What do you think I’m insinuating?”

Kaidan’s eyes flick from Joker to Tali. He says nothing before turning his back to head down the CIC walkway.

“Shepard’s in the CIC,” Joker calls after him. Kaidan breaks stride for half a second before resuming without turning around. “Holy shit you’re right,” Joker says when he’s out of earshot.

“Told you.”

“Tali, you were _right_.”

He raises a fist. She bumps it with hers.

“Ok,” he says. “Now, about the next book.”

~

Kaidan does find Shepard in the CIC, talking to Dubyanski and Pakti, who always seem to move as a pair. As Kaidan recalls, they’d been planning to spend their days on Earth visiting Pakti’s mother in Mumbai. He hides a smile, wondering if one day they’ll find out Pakti’s mother had drawn the wrong conclusion about that visit. If the conclusion had really been wrong in the first place.

Aside from them the CIC is still empty, the consoles down the hallway unmanned. In a couple of hours the place will be humming, boots rattling the deckplates over the sounds of idle chatter.

He waits until Shepard catches his eye. The way his face comes to life when he finally does turns an entire flock of butterflies loose in Kaidan’s stomach. Shepard excuses himself from Dubyanski and Pakti, signals Kaidan and nods towards the conference room. Kaidan raises an eyebrow, but follows him in. Once the door closes behind them, Kaidan crosses his arms over his chest. “Shepard, not sure what your game is here, but this hardly seems like—”

“Get your head out of the gutter, Lieutenant,” Shepard says with an affectionate smile, attention on the control panel. “Before you can get in my pants there’s something you need to do. But just know that when you’re done, you should…come find me.”

As the screen flickers to life Shepard heads for the door, briefly touching Kaidan’s shoulder before exiting. Kaidan looks back at the vid screen in bewilderment until a familiar face materializes on the screen.

“Kara,” he says, eyes widening.

Her face lights up.

“ _Kaidan fucking Alenko, as I live and breathe.”_

He chuckles, not prepared for how relieved he is to see and hear her in real time. “It’s good to see you, Corporal.”

“ _Seems like I only see you in dress uniforms these days.”_

Kaidan looks down at his dress blues and wrinkles his nose. “Necessary evil today. They added some extra hardware to it.”

“ _Big fancy heroes_ ,” she says with a nod. “ _You saved a lot of people_.”

“Not enough.”

She lets the comment hang, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Maybe to spare his feelings, maybe because she understands that saying otherwise doesn’t help anything.

“ _I thought you were dead,”_ she says. _“Kept seeing vid clips of Shepard, but not you. Thought maybe the Citadel fell on you.”_

“Kinda did,” Kaidan admits. “It was…ugly. But believe it or not, Shepard took the worst of it.”

“ _That surprises me exactly zero. Asshole gets too excited about whatever’s at the front of his shotgun to watch his flank.”_

“That shotgun probably saved us all,” Kaidan says, shuddering at the memory of the eerie blue light finally fading from Saren’s eyes for good.

_“That also sounds about as unusual as Beaudoin being on time for dinner.”_

Kaidan’s mouth twists in a wistful smile. Pendergrass’s eyes glisten, and she looks away from the screen.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call before now,” Kaidan says.

“ _Yeah, well. Killer robots and all.”_ Her voice wavers a little. She hugs herself again, much like she had in her original message. “ _I shouldn’t have hit send. Mom always told me never to send shit past midnight.”_

“Yes, you should have,” he consoles her. “They were our friends, Kara. It’s okay to grieve.”

She sniffles and wipes her nose. _“I miss his fucking laugh. He sounded like a foghorn when he laughed.”_

And Beaudoin had done it often. Everyone on the ‘ _Yang_ had always been game to laugh.

“Do you remember Chalkhos?” Kaidan asks.

Pendergrass bursts out laughing. “ _When we were hiding on the ridge and he somehow knocked his pistol out of its holster?”_

Kaidan nods, grinning. “It rolled all the way down that hill and landed right in front of the enemy’s boot.”

“ _I’ve never heard Aslany swear that much, and that’s saying something. She earned her keep with her sniper that day.”_

“And then he turned around and saved her ass when that second team closed in on us from behind.”

 _“Yeah,_ ” she says, smile fading. She looks down and exhales. “ _I can’t shake the feeling that we should have been there. Done something. Had their backs, the way they always had ours.”_

Kaidan swallows. That’s something he’ll live with the rest of his life in ways she’ll never know. “It’s gonna hurt, Kara,” he says gently. “Only way to get through is to let it.”

“ _You any good at that part?”_ she asks.

“Not really,” he confesses.

_“That…actually makes me feel a little better.”_

“At least that makes one of us.”

_“I’m just glad you’re okay. Shepard, too. He is okay, right? He has his Sharjila face on in the vids I’ve been seeing. I hate that face.”_

“Yeah,” Kaidan says. “He’s ok. As much as he usually is.”

Her expression turns solemn. “ _Should I be scared, Kaidan? About…whatever happened. Whatever’s out there.”_

Kaidan hesitates only for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I know I am. But Shepard’s on it. We’ll figure it out.”

 _“Shepard’s never found a problem he can’t solve. Except coffee. Going for coffee in the morning and finding his shit take in the pot is something I_ don't _miss, and you can tell him I said it.”_

Kaidan laughs. “Yeah, that hasn’t changed, either. Our pilot wakes up early to try and get to it before he does, but Shepard figured out his game. Guess who won that standoff.”

“ _Let him have his motor oil. Guess he’s earned it. Seems like in the end we’re all a lot safer if he’s around.”_ She shifts her feet. _“You’ll watch his flank, won’t you?”_

He nods slowly. “Always.”

For the job they have in front of them, he’ll just have to hope it’s enough.

~

After leaving the comm room, Kaidan gets stopped by the requisitions officer to go over the new cargo manifest and get approvals before they can depart. By the time he’s done, Dubyanski and Pakti have both been waiting half an hour for his help getting back into the mainframe. Apparently the Alliance technicians accidentally overwrote the access codes, and only he, Shepard and Pressly have the authority to override and create new ones.

He spots Shepard once, deep in conversation with Pressly near the galaxy map in the CIC. Shepard stares at a datapad, brow furrowed deep as Pressly gruffs about something Kaidan can’t make out. But as Kaidan passes by to get to the bridge, a few choice words on his tongue for the repair team, Shepard catches his eye. The creases in his forehead soften, corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. Then it’s gone, and there’s no trace of the Shepard who’d been nestled in his arms just a few hours ago.

The two hours that he’d hoped to steal before departure disappear in the blink of an eye, and then it’s back to the stars.

~

Tali stands behind Joker’s seat in the cockpit as the atmosphere bleeds away outside the shutters, clouds dissolving into the vastness of space.

If you really stop to think about the empty spaces between the stars, you’d go a little mad. Tali prefers to think about how lucky she is to traverse them with people she cares about. And know that on the other side of some of those spaces, someone will be there to greet her. Her father and Raan in the Flotilla. Garrus on the Citadel. Wrex on Tuchanka. The galaxy isn’t so empty as long as you know where to look.

Addison Chase leans back in the seat Tali had occupied until Joker had kicked her out so his co-pilot could run her systems checks. There was a time when Joker and Chase had liked each other about as much as a varren likes a pyjack, but since the Battle of the Citadel they’ve been on better terms. From what Tali had heard through Grenado, Chase had done a hell of a job coordinating with Adams to keep them afloat under fire. Maybe Joker’s overprotectiveness when it comes to the _Normandy_ is finally easing a little.

Joker and Chase discuss the jump data for Charon while Tali gazes at the stars. She doesn’t usually hang around for relay jumps, but after four days down a gravity well she’s missed the comfort of space more than she’d expected.

Shepard joins them, too, to her surprise. He leans against a bulkhead, posture relaxed, expression…pensive, perhaps. So hard to tell.

“Thought you might be occupied,” she says slyly.

Shepard’s posture quickly becomes _less_ relaxed, eyebrow raising, stance straightening before he settles back into it and shrugs. “Missed the stars.”

She forgets sometimes that more than anyone on this ship, except for maybe Joker, Shepard probably understands her attachment to ships.

“Where are we headed?” she asks.

“Terminus systems.” He grins at her. “Patrolling for geth. Seems tame compared to what we just did, but it’s up your alley at least.”

“It’s bullshit,” Joker says over his shoulder. “They’re sending us to the middle of nowhere. It’s their way of punishing us without actually punishing us.”

“Dunno,” Shepard says. “A little break in the action might not be so bad.”

“Yeah, well after you’ve been digging up minerals in the Mako for a week you come back and tell me if you still believe that.”

A smile plays at the edge of Shepard’s lips. Tali gets the feeling Shepard knows exactly what he’d like to do with some downtime.

Joker starts their approach to the relay.

“What do you think is out there in those stars?” Tali asks. “What’s our next adventure going to be?”

Outside the shutters, the relay rings spin, picking up speed as a massive field of dark energy pulses and grows, lashing out like lightning to snare the ship. The stars shiver violently under the blue trellis of dark energy before reforming into an entirely new set of constellations.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Shepard replies.

~

It’s not their usual poker night, but everyone winds up in the mess anyway. No one really calls for a game, in the same way no one actually knows what time it is. It’s past midnight ship time, but barely dinner time for everyone who’d been in Vancouver. Considering the crew had been scattered among half a dozen different time zones on Earth, no one’s sure when they’re supposed to feel tired. Or hungry. Or report for duty.

Tali winds up sitting in the mess mostly because she’s not sure what else to do, and the next thing she knows the usual group is there. Eventually a deck of cards just shows up. Kaidan, Joker, Pressly, Adams, Shepard, Dr. Chakwas. Even Liara, who only occasionally joins them, plays a few hands.

Kaidan and Liara get everyone another round of drinks as Dr. Chakwas deals the next hand. She’s been scolding Shepard for three straight games after she caught him limping to the galley for a refill.

“Gin,” Kaidan tells Liara, showing her the bottle. The liquor selection has improved tremendously since being docked on Earth. “And vermouth. Don’t have a martini glass, so you’ll have to make do with a tumbler.”

“What about the olive?” Liara asks.

Kaidan opens a jar, spears one of the weird green fruits on a small stick and hands it to her. She beams and carries one martini for herself and one for Dr. Chakwas to the table. Kaidan brings a beer for himself, Joker, and Adams, a shot of whiskey for Shepard. Pressly wrinkles his nose at the whiskey and gets himself a brandy, but has to make a return trip to the galley for a second one when Chakwas raises an eyebrow.

Tali has learned over the last several months that Dr. Chakwas can outdrink everyone at the table.

She herself sips at a turian brandy that Garrus left on board as Kaidan sits back down in his chair – the one next to Shepard. Their fingers brush, deliberately accidental.

Pressly laughs as Joker regales them with stories of his testimony before the Alliance. Tali doesn’t remember half the things he insists he said, and Pressly clearly doesn’t believe him, but still quirks a smile as he looks at his cards. The surly navigator would never admit it, but Tali is certain he is proud of their helmsman.

Adams grouses about the well-intentioned but ill-executed attempts of the Alliance engineering team who’d recalibrated the drive core as part of their repairs and retrofits. Tali chimes in – they have an entire days’ worth of diagnostics to run tomorrow.

Dr. Chakwas tells them about her friends in Buenos Aires and a trip to Iguazu Falls. Tali wants to hear everything about the waterfall, while Joker is far more interested in her offhand comment about a run in with a group of mercenaries. Her response is to smooth back a loose strand of silver hair and politely inform him that a lady never kisses and tells. Joker almost falls out of his chair.

Adams asks about the gala. Kaidan and Shepard exchange glances. Liara takes a deliberate sip of her martini. Joker snorts into the back of his hand.

“The dresses,” Tali says with a sigh. “The dresses were _beautiful._ ”

“How did it feel to be planet side, Commander?” Pressly asks. “Guessing you don’t get down the well much.”

Shepard shakes his head, whiskey in hand. “No. Not really. Handful of times, mostly for training. Kind of nice to see a few sights this time.”

“Enjoy anything in particular?”

Shepard tilts his chin, thoughtful. “The rain,” he says at last. “Never had the chance to just…watch it rain before.”

Kaidan smiles into his cards.

Joker raises his beer. “Here’s to stealing ships, saving the galaxy and getting away with it. And also not having to so much as look at my dress uniform for what is hopefully a really long time.”

Everyone at the table raises their drinks in agreement.

Too bad, Tali thinks. She kind of likes the dress uniforms.

As the game winds down, Shepard is the first to say goodnight. Eventually it’s just Joker, Tali and Kaidan at the table. Kaidan drums his fingers, trying not to look at Shepard’s door.

“Kaidan,” Tali says. “Earlier Shepard mentioned the new armor mods we picked up. There was something about the shipping manifest that didn’t look right. He meant to ask you about it. Did he say anything to you?”

“No,” Kaidan asks with a frown.

“Hmm, better go ask him then,” Joker says, gathering the cards together to stuff them back in their box. “You know, knock on his door.”

Kaidan looks back and forth between them both, as though weighing whether or not to come up with a denial or just accept the help they’re offering. Eventually he picks the latter.

“Yeah. I’ll go ask him. Thanks.”

He squares his shoulders and heads toward Shepard’s quarters.

“That’s my girl,” Joker tells her when Kaidan is out of earshot.

“We make a good team,” she replies, then helps him finish cleaning up.

~

Kaidan’s hand hovers over the chime to Shepard’s door. Two weeks ago he’d stood in this same place, trying and failing to find the courage to knock.

Not this time.

The door slides open, but Shepard’s not standing on the other side like he expects. Instead Kaidan finds him slouched in the chair at his desk, one leg propped awkwardly in front of him, scrolling through a datapad. At the sight of Kaidan his stoic expression softens into a smile.

He puts down the datapad. “Hey, you.”

Maybe it’s the way he says it. Maybe it’s that he says it at all. Either way, warmth floods his core.

“Hey,” he says, wondering if it shows in his face. The way Shepard’s smile deepens, he figures it does. “Hope Dr. Chakwas didn’t rake you over the coals too hard. She’s gonna do everything in her power to get her hands on you in the morning.”

“Rather you get your hands on me first,” Shepard says. He starts to get up, but Kaidan’s already there, their biotic fields intersecting with a sharp hum. In a flash of boldness, Kaidan takes some initiative and straddles Shepard’s legs. It’s a lot less suave than he imagined. The chair’s on wheels, for one, and ends up coasting away from the desk and towards the bed as Kaidan scrambles awkwardly to keep up. Shepard just grins.

“That worked really well in my head,” Kaidan says.

“No, I can picture it. It was impressive.”

Shepard loops an arm around Kaidan’s neck and pulls him in until their lips meet, wincing a little when Kaidan’s weight settles wrong on his thigh. Kaidan immediately tries to stand, fuck this terrible idea, but Shepard traps him in place. When they finally get it right Kaidan sighs against him.

“Better watch it,” Kaidan mumbles between kisses. “I’m getting used to this awfully fast.”

“Should have gotten used to it a long time ago.”

They part, foreheads resting together, and just breathe each other in.

“Thanks for arranging that call earlier,” Kaidan says.

Shepard’s fingers tangle in Kaidan’s hair. “Was pretty sure you needed it as much as she did. Just sorry it took so long to find some time for…this.”

“You’re worth the wait.”

Kaidan presses his lips to Shepard’s, soft and slow, falling headlong into him. Maybe this collision’s been a long time coming, an inevitable derailment of a train picking up speed for years until it finally hit a curve that sent it skidding off the tracks. Or maybe all this time they’ve just been spinning in circles, looking for a solid place to plant their feet and find some momentum. Just imagine how far they could go, now that they have the chance.

Because _god_ Kaidan could kiss him forever. Shepard’s hands climb up his spine, twist in his hair, pull him in as close as they can manage within the confines of the damned desk chair.

Out of nowhere, Shepard chuckles. The sound of it reverberates off Kaidan’s lips, scintillating, just like the rest of him.

“What?” Kaidan asks, pulling away. The chair swivels a little with the movement, swinging slowly to the left.

Shepard shakes his head. “Just thinking of something really stupid.”

“You? Never.”

“I detect that sarcasm and am making the tactical decision to ignore it.”

“Ok,” Kaidan says with a grin. “So what’s so stupid?”

“I read a few pages of Tali’s book.”

“The romance novel?” Kaidan asks. “ _You_?”

“Yeah. _Me_. I sometimes read things that aren’t reports.”

Kaidan chuckles. “So what’s so funny? Do we not measure up to the fictional power couple?”

“No, I’m _positive_ we’re a much better power couple than that. Whoever wrote it’s clearly never actually held a gun in their hands. But that wasn’t why I laughed.”

“Ok.”

“Every time they kiss there’s some big, long block of exposition about how they taste.”

Kaidan raises an eyebrow. “So, what? Do I taste weird?”

“That’s what's so funny. You taste like mouth. I keep trying to figure out what you taste like and all I’ve got is mouth.”

Kaidan throws back his head and laughs.

“I mean, you’re always complaining about my palate,” Shepard points out. “Maybe I just need practice. You know. Refine it a little.”

“Mmm,” Kaidan rumbles. “I like the sound of that.”

“Thought you might,” Shepard says with a grin, and hooks Kaidan around the waist, pulling him close. Despite how hard Kaidan tries to push it out of mind, instead of losing himself in the heat and warmth of Shepard’s mouth, all he can think about is whether it tastes like anything.

“Okay,” Kaidan says when they part again. “You’re right. Your mouth tastes like a mouth.”

“Right? Ok, I feel better.”

Shepard runs a thumb across Kaidan’s forehead, grin fading to something soft and filled with awe. The warmth in Kaidan’s belly simmers. Oh, how he plans to explore every way he can find to get that smile again and again.

Shepard pulls Kaidan in a little closer to whisper in his ear. “How about we get out of this uncomfortable chair and make ourselves a little more comfortable?”

Kaidan tightens up unexpectedly, surprising himself as much as it surprises Shepard, and now it’s Shepard’s turn to let go. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Kaidan.”

Kaidan chuckles, face flushed, and trails a hand down the front of Shepard’s uniform. “I don’t do this very often. I’m just…a little rusty. That’s all.”

Shepard relaxes. “You’ve hardly seen me dashing off to places like Chora’s Den on shore leave.”

“As I recall, we actually dashed off to Chora’s Den a _couple_ of times.”

“Yeah, and we _shot_ everyone.”

Kaidan grins. “Fair point.”

Shepard strokes Kaidan’s cheek with a finger. “Hey. If you want to go slow, we’ll go slow. If this part is something you’re not into…we’ll do other things. We’ve gone five years without the physical stuff. The way I feel about you isn’t contingent on what you do to my dick.”

Kaidan gazes at him for a long minute before leaning in and kissing him. Slow, deep, giving it everything he can give.

“I don’t want many people,” he says slowly, trying to find the right words. “But you…I want _you._ ”

Shepard nods. “I…know what you mean.”

Kaidan’s pulse quickens. He gets to his feet and offers Shepard his hand. This time, when Kaidan pulls him to his feet he doesn’t avoid those last few inches of space between them. Instead he does everything in his power to take Shepard’s breath away.

“I think you’ll enjoy some of the things I have in mind for your dick,” Kaidan murmurs, gently pushing Shepard down until he’s seated on the bed. He smiles. “I just might need a little practice to get it right.”

“Practice is good,” Shepard breathes, centering Kaidan between his legs. “I like practice. Just, uh. I’m a little underprepared for certain activities. I don’t exactly keep lube in my nightstand.”

Kaidan feigns shock. “Commander Shepard, not prepared for action?”

Shepard’s cheeks burn, and butterflies tumble around in Kaidan’s stomach at the realization he’s made the Savior of the Citadel blush.

“Never thought about it much,” Shepard says, fingers running up the front of Kaidan’s fatigues. He chuckles nervously. “Then you came along...and now I can’t stop.”

_God._

Kaidan’s breath hitches, aching throb in his chest sinking notably lower. “You, uh. If that’s your way of trying to get into my pants it’s working.”

A smile spreads across Shepard’s face. Slowly, methodically, with patience that nearly drives Kaidan mad, Shepard runs a thumb along Kaidan’s belt, tugging at his uniform until the shirt comes untucked.

“You said you didn’t want to rush,” Shepard murmurs, eyes locked on Kaidan’s. “Bunk here and we’ll have all night.” Without breaking his gaze Shepard slips his hands under Kaidan’s shirt, fingers searching out bare skin. Kaidan does him a favor and gets rid of the shirt entirely, allowing Shepard to continue what he’d started back at the condo. And he does, willingly, eagerly, this time using his lips instead of his fingers. Kaidan’s stomach jumps in response, shaky gasp rattling its way out of him.

“Shepard…god.”

He expects a grin, a sly remark, some show of his customary bravado. But when he looks down and sees Shepard’s face there’s just raw, unfiltered emotion that stills the breath in Kaidan’s throat.

Shepard lays his forehead against Kaidan’s stomach and wraps his arms around his waist, entire body trembling as he exhales. Kaidan drapes one arm around Shepard’s shoulders, other hand caressing his head.

“Kaidan…” Shepard whispers.

“Hey,” Kaidan says, taking a knee. “You and me. Just like always.”

Shepard pulls him in and kisses him, hard, like it might be the last chance he ever gets. Kaidan gives it right back, pouring as much love as he can into it.

Kaidan interrupts it only for as long as it takes to pull Shepard’s shirt over his head. Skin to skin, from the waist up, anyways, Kaidan takes everything he wants until his knee aches from holding his weight and he can hardly breathe. Only then does he turn loose of Shepard’s mouth. They lock gazes, Kaidan catching Shepard’s chin in his fingers.

“You and me,” Kaidan repeats.

Shepard nods. Then takes Kaidan’s hand, places it on his chest. Nothing between them now. No ablative. No suit. Nothing but flesh under his palm, solid, real, a beating heart instead of a biofeed.

Kaidan’s turn to do a little reveling. He traces the curve of Shepard’s shoulder, following the taut muscle of his deltoid to where it melts into his bicep. There’s a scar nestled there, small and circular.

“Amaranthine,” he murmurs, running his fingers across it. Parting gift from Helena Blake.

“Yeah,” Shepard says with a soft smile. “If not for you, that bullet would have gone in my skull.”

“Maybe if you’d given anyone a head’s up you were planning to open fire it wouldn’t have hit you at all.”

“Can’t prepare for what you didn’t plan.”

Kaidan strokes the side of Shepard’s face. “So impulsive. So perfect.”

“Impulsive hardly seems like it would fit your definition of perfect,” Shepard replies, leaning into the touch.

“Can’t help it,” Kaidan says. “You’re just like that. You somehow make it perfect, even if I want to smack you in the head sometimes.”

Shepard huffs.

Kaidan’s fingers skate across Shepard’s collar bone, dropping to his chest. There’s another mark there, this one long and jagged.

“Volkov,” Kaidan remembers. “Sawblade from that batarian pirate. Straggler came up on us while I was patching the suit breach and you hit him with a biotic punch.” Kaidan vividly remembers the electric energy that has passed through him, lighting up every nerve, standing every hair on end. The phoenix flaring to life so perilously close he’d nearly been caught in the crossfire. Terrifying. _Magnificent_.

“He was aiming for your spine,” Shepard says.

They share so much history. Until now Kaidan has defined it solely through suit patches, mexo readings and mission reports. But they’re marked in other ways, too. Shepard’s body is a tapestry of skin and scars, some they earned together, others he’ll have to learn. More pieces to discover. He wants them all.

Kaidan pauses his exploration to trace the small scar that curves into Shepard’s hairline. “Always wanted to know where you got this one,” he says.

Shepard smiles. “Coffee table. I was five. Plowed right into it, headfirst.”

Kaidan loops an arm around Shepard’s neck and pulls him close, kissing the scar and then burying his face in the crook of Shepard’s neck. “Of course you did,” he mumbles.

Shepard takes advantage of his closeness to find the buckle of Kaidan’s belt. A few fumbles, a few insistent tugs and it comes free, followed by the button of his pants. Kaidan struggles back to his feet, but his knee is stiff from kneeling on it, and as his pants slip and puddle around his boots he nearly trips. Shepard laughs, the sound of it light, free, full of joy, and he braces Kaidan with a hand to hold him up.

Kaidan takes care of his boots while Shepard looks to his own clothes, but Kaidan forgets how laces work when Shepard is naked in front of him for the first time.

Not the first time. Not really. They’ve shared communal showers for years, but Kaidan’s never had the freedom to let his eyes roam, to linger on every crevice, every dip and curve, trace the lines where muscle blends into bone, study how all the pieces of Shepard, of _Sam_ , fit together in the flesh.

He does so now, the simmering heat that’s been slowly building now hot enough to scald them both. They’re both fully exposed, with nothing to hide behind and nothing left to hold up but the truth.

“You’re beautiful,” Kaidan breathes. “ _God,_ Sam, you’re beautiful.”

“You keep saying things like that and _I’m_ going to get used to it awfully fast,” Shepard murmurs.

Kaidan’s lips quirk in a smile. He’ll tell Shepard he’s beautiful every day for the rest of his life if that’s what it takes, because he’ll never tire of saying it. Besides, someone needs to. Someone needs to show him how much he matters, how much he’s worth. And he doesn’t want it to be anyone else.

He lays his palm flat on Shepard’s chest, applying pressure until he lays back onto the bed, giving him room to swing his legs up off the floor. As he does, Kaidan catches sight of a sprawling knot of distorted flesh halfway between Shepard’s left knee and ankle that stops him cold. He brushes it with tentative fingers, as if it might somehow still hurt.

“Sharjila,” he says softly. Where the acid from a thresher maw had chewed through the ablative of Shepard’s armor, the fraction of a second of depressurization before the suit VI had compensated enough to shatter the bone.

Shepard nods, eyes solemn.

Kaidan had never seen the scar. Never looked for it. For the most part he’s tried not to think about Sharjila over the years. But now he can’t help but remember the unrelenting debris-riddled winds, the endless open ground rolled out in front of them without shelter, the sound of Shepard’s ragged, desperate breathing. If he tried, Kaidan could probably still recall the biofeeds. Pulse. Respiration. Blood pressure. Each moving slowly, treacherously in the wrong direction, Kaidan helpless to stop it.

“I almost lost you that day,” Kaidan murmurs.

“Thought I was going to lose _you_ ,” Shepard replies. “For entirely different reasons.”

Kaidan runs a thumb over the mark, bolder this time. Such a small, innocuous reminder of something that in many ways had nearly shattered them both. “You almost did. But in the end, that was the day I realized there wasn’t anything you could put in the world that would be worse than you leaving it.”

He swallows over a sudden lump in his throat. Sometimes it feels like his entire life is wrapped up in making sure that day never happens. His gaze strays from the scar, up Shepard’s leg to the healing bruise on his hip, still so stark, so terrifyingly real.

“Kaidan,” Shepard says softly. Kaidan raises his eyes. “Be here with me _now_. Right now. Don’t get lost in the might-have-beens. Give me today while we’ve got it.” He reaches for Kaidan’s hand, squeezes it when Kaidan gives it to him.

Shepard tugs until Kaidan straddles his waist. He fights a little self-consciousness as Shepard seizes hold of his hips, anchoring him in place to look him over with the same thoroughness. Hard to miss when Shepard’s gaze drifts south, Kaidan’s arousal plain to see, and whatever that look is in his eyes, Kaidan wants more of it. His stomach does a somersault with enough force he’s nearly dizzy.

Shepard presses his thumbs against Kaidan’s pelvis, tracing firm but gentle circles, then reaches up to one hand, finds the trail of hair starting below his belly button and follows it down, pulling a low moan from Kaidan’s throat.

The sound sure does something, because Shepard grabs Kaidan by the wrist and yanks him down until they collide, chest to chest, mouth on mouth, the bodies they know so well when it comes to the cadence of combat finding new ways to fit together. It’s not seamless. Far from it. Some of those new angles don’t quite fit – not yet. Shepard torques his bad hip trying to wrap his leg around Kaidan, and in their exuberance Kaidan’s erection bends in a way it’s not meant to bend, which nearly cuts the whole thing short. But Shepard grins, Kaidan laughs, and the love he’s kept so carefully locked up for so long puts a physical ache in his chest, too much and too big to hold inside. He doesn’t know how he ever held it in the first place.

He plants one hand on the mattress near Shepard’s shoulder, trailing the other up the length of him, thumb dipping inward along Shepard’s thigh until he shivers, hips arcing upwards into the touch. The sound he makes is like a shot of electricity to the groin.

Kaidan kisses him so hard their teeth clack, and there’s a tang of copper in his mouth where he’s bitten his lip. Shepard reaches down with his hand. One finger, one languid stroke, and Kaidan’s heart nearly stops.

“I want you,” Shepard says, hoarse, raw, like the words have been chafing at his throat for a lifetime.

“You have me,” Kaidan mumbles. “You’ve always had me.”

After a few false starts they find the right friction and move together, Shepard’s breath hot in his ear as he kisses Kaidan’s throat, jaw, anything he can reach.

“Sam,” Kaidan breathes, and it’s all but a whimper. He can feel him, god he can _feel_ Shepard against him, the sensation churning up enough heat that his control starts slipping. It’s all he can do to hold himself up.

“Need you,” Shepard mumbles against his neck, his groan low and guttural. “Kaidan.”

Kaidan’s loathe to put any kind of space between them, but he’s got other ideas now and he’d sell his entire fucking soul to hear Shepard cry out his name in ecstasy rather than in fear, the way he had just a few hours ago.

In those few hours it feels like he’s lived a lifetime. Sliding down Shepard’s torso until he can take him in his mouth, watching him twist the sheets in his fingers with one hand while the other tangles in Kaidan’s hair, he’d gladly spend another one right here.

After years spent learning Shepard’s battlefield habits, now Kaidan discovers completely different cues. A new language that’s even more theirs than the biotics that have always set them apart. It’s not always elegant, it definitely needs some finesse. But Kaidan is patient, so patient, looking for the right combination of his tongue, lips, hand, until Shepard writhes like a fish on a line.

Kaidan’s nerves sing as Shepard’s corona ignites, blue fire licking at Kaidan’s core. Shepard’s hips buck, Kaidan’s name falling from his lips moments before he reaches his peak. Kaidan takes him through it, one hand holding his hips steady, the other trapped in Shepard’s iron grip.

Shepard sinks back to the mattress, relaxed, spent, contented sounds rippling from his throat as his corona gutters out, air crackling with static. Only then does Kaidan turn him loose, swallowing and wiping his mouth, trying in vain not to make a face.

“You ok?” Shepard asks, guilty look on his face. “Shit, was that ok?”

“Yes,” Kaidan says, quickly, then ducks his head. “Sorry, just…out of practice, remember?”

Shepard grins. “Don’t you _dare_ apologize.”

Kaidan runs his fingers across the musculature of Shepard’s abs, watching the muscles ripple and jump as he catches his breath. There are definitely a few advantages of falling for a marine. An N7. Between the gene mods, discipline and brutal training regimen, Shepard’s body is as lethal as his gun and exquisite to look at, especially like this.

“C’mere,” Shepard says, seizing Kaidan’s wrist and pulling him back within reach. Kaidan slides up next to him, grin plastered on his face as Shepard rolls him to his side and pulls Kaidan’s back flush with his chest. Their limbs interlock, one of Shepard’s hands snaking under Kaidan’s shoulder, the other reaching across his waist until his fingers find the fine hairs on Kaidan’s pelvis and start to explore. Slow and tender to start out, growing bolder the more Kaidan reacts to his touch.

“Sam,” he gasps.

“Say it again,” Shepard whispers in his ear.

“Mmmm. Thought you hated it when people called you by your name.”

“Not you.”

As if to prove his point, he runs a finger over the moist head of Kaidan’s arousal, rumbling with pleasure when Kaidan’s breath hitches, hips jumping into Shepard’s hand.

“Sam,” he pants.

“That’s it,” Shepard says softly. “Like that.”

Kaidan will say it over and over if it means more of this, more of _Shepard_ , more of his lips trailing kisses down Kaidan’s neck as they move, more of his voice low and guttural in Kaidan’s ear, more of the give and take of his hands, more of the warm tingle of their biotic fields prickling his skin, more of _everything_. There will never, _never_ be enough.

At one point Shepard gets a little overzealous and Kaidan winces, which is when he discovers that in this new world of theirs, rather than a commander Kaidan now has an attentive and willing pupil, eager to take direction and learn how to give Kaidan what he wants. _Needs_ , because he does, _god_ he does, and Shepard has such tremendous capacity to give.

Shepard presses a smile into Kaidan’s neck. “I feel like a cadet.”

“Mm. Definitely not a cadet. At least a lieutenant. Consider it, _mmmph_ , a field promotion.”

“I’d salute, but my hands are kinda occupied.”

Kaidan stumbles over a smartass remark that can’t get through the haze in his brain, his laugh quickly swallowed up by a long, low moan.

Dark energy ripples through him, aura threatening to kindle. Years of training and conditioning kick in to bottle it up, until Shepard holds him tighter.

“Let go,” he whispers.

Kaidan’s corona catches like a spark finding oxygen, starving and hungry, bathing them both in flickering blue flames. Shepard lets his own radiate outward to join it. Their fields hiss as they mingle, sending an exquisite hum reverberating through every nerve.

Shepard stays with him as his hips buck, and when he finally goes over the edge Shepard is right there, holding him close, riding it out with him as Kaidan mumbles his name, over and over.

Limbs warm and heavy, Kaidan relaxes against him. Shepard traces his silhouette with his now-free hand while Kaidan grips the arm that’s pinned underneath him and tries to catch his breath.

“So?” Shepard murmurs. “How was that?”

“System crashed,” Kaidan mumbles, the words half slurred. “Ask again when I reboot.”

Shepard chuckles. It’s not his usual laugh. It’s softer. Tender. A rumble deep in his broad chest. “I’ll take that as a positive sign, then.”

“Mmmmmm.”

Shepard’s arm twitches where Kaidan has him pinned. “Gonna need that back,” he grunts.

Kaidan shifts enough to free him. Shepard flexes his wrist and rolls his shoulder to work out the kink. “Stay there. I think I have a towel.”

A rush of cool air greets Kaidan’s back as Shepard gets out of bed and digs around, eventually returning with a t-shirt from his duffle bag. He shrugs in apology. “Uh, best I got without venturing out…there.” He gestures to the door.

Out _there_ , of course, is reality. The crew. Their responsibilities to the crew. They’re going to have to be careful. Discreet. They knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But knowing it and living it are two different things.

“This’ll work just fine,” Kaidan says.

Shepard joins him back into bed, trapping the hopelessly rumpled blanket beneath him, and watches Kaidan clean himself up with a lazy grin.

“So this is…different,” he says when Kaidan tosses the t-shirt on the floor.

“Weird?” Kaidan asks, settling back onto the mattress.

“A little,” Shepard confesses. “But good,” he adds quickly. “Really…really good.”

They fumble a little as they lie back down, thinking too hard about whose limbs should go where instead of just letting it happen. Shepard solves it by kissing him, driving all thoughts out of his brain until they wind up in a breathless heap, Kaidan on his back, Shepard leaning over him with a knowing grin.

“Have to pull you out of your own head sometimes,” Shepard says.

“Feel free to do it more often.”

Kaidan tugs Shepard down until his head rests on Kaidan’s shoulder. Shepard exhales, long and slow, draping an arm across Kaidan’s chest. The warm weight of him chases away any of the guilt and anxiety Kaidan feels from being here, in his CO’s cabin, with no intentions to leave.

Kaidan plants a kiss on the crown of his head. One hand runs languid strokes up and down Shepard’s spine while the other brushes his face. His chin. Jaw. Forehead. When Kaidan’s thumb strays to an eyebrow Shepard sighs and sinks deeper against him.

“Please don’t stop,” Shepard murmurs.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They lie in a pleasant tangle of limbs, no sound but their own contentment. Eventually Shepard’s breathing evens out, becoming deep and slow. Kaidan fumbles for an edge of the blanket, hoping to pull it over them both, but Shepard’s got it pinned beneath him in a helpless tangle.

“What is it with you and blankets,” Shepard mumbles.

“ _Me?_ Shepard, you are a nightmare to share a bed with.”

“Your nightmare now.”

Kaidan chuckles. “Yeah. Guess you are.”

Shepard shifts just enough for Kaidan to pull the sheet out from under him. The best he can do without kicking both of them out of bed and remaking it is to _mostly_ cover them. Good enough. Kaidan relaxes back onto his pillow as Shepard settles back against him. Mentally he tries to calculate the best time to try and slip out in the morning unnoticed before morning shift change. He’s got a few words for whoever thought it was a good idea to put the captain’s quarters adjacent to the mess.

As if sensing his tension, Shepard shifts. “Don’t have to stay,” he says, eyes half closed. “Not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Not my decision.”

Kaidan puts a finger to his chin and tips it up until their eyes meet. Only now that the bliss is fading and reality is creeping back in does he see how red Shepard’s eyes are, how tired. Past two nights he’s had maybe a couple of hours of sleep at best.

_(Every time. They rip you apart. Kill you over and over, right in front of my eyes.)_

Kaidan can only wonder how many times the beacon has woken him up in his quarters afraid and alone. Not this time. Not tonight.

“I want to stay.”

Shepard smiles as he lays his head back down. “Good. Because you’re way better than my actual pillow.”

“Harder to throw off the bed, too.”

“Just need practice.”

Kaidan chuckles.

Shepard falls silent, and for a while Kaidan thinks he’s drifted off. In the stillness of the cabin, he marvels at what he has in his arms. How just a few hours ago, Kaidan had hesitated to touch him when Shepard had needed him most.

He holds him tighter.

It’s taken them five years to find this quiet room, the space to hold one another and not let go. It’s worth it. No matter what happens now, it’s worth it.

He reaches over to flip off the light.

“Kaidan?” Shepard mumbles through the dark.

“Mmm.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Kaidan replies.

“Say it.”

Kaidan presses a kiss to his forehead, caresses his jaw with a finger. “I love you.”

As if it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy.

_End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Final chapter. This story has been a labor of love. If you couldn't tell, Sam and Kaidan mean a lot to me.
> 
> To everyone who came along for the ride, you will never know how truly grateful I am and how much I appreciate all of your support and encouragement. 
> 
> More Sam and Kaidan is coming (a lot more), and will be posted under the "Opus" series. I'm not ready to let go of these two idiots quite yet. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you would like to drown in mshenko feelings with me, feel free to come find me on tumblr, swaps55.tumblr.com. I share snippets, occasionally fill prompts and love having company when I cry over how much I adore these two lovable idiots.  
>    
> [The Sonata soundtrack.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/71jy7GtzefUk3x36b9bnDN?si=s7FjQwQuQvGPoSlCEd09bA)


End file.
